Children of Anthem
by LilithFalling
Summary: Vault 101 isn't perfect, but it's home, and James Foster does his best to make a good life for himself and his child. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and dreams of the world above will guide the way.
1. The End Begins

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is the original property of Fallout 3 or Bethesda.

Author's Note: This is what is probably my fifth attempt at a Fallout story, but this is the first one I've ever actually published, because this is the first time I've got the "feel" of it. I think it'll be good, so just read on. I really hope you enjoy it, and please, leave a review if you're inclined.

Summary: Vault 101 isn't perfect, but it's home, and James Foster does his best to make a good life for himself and his child. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and dreams of the world above will guide the way. Though I am still undecided, as the story progresses, serious pairings will likely include LW/Butch, LW/Jericho, and maybe some LW/Burke and LW/Harkness.

* * *

Chapter One

The End Begins

The night was the longest and most stressful he had ever endured, and the loudest in his memory. He'd have thought there would be complete silence so deep underground, but the unfamiliar humming of the ventilation system was a constant white noise in the background, no matter what time of the day it was. He found himself wishing they would turn it off sometime. It was cold enough down here without the constant draft.

His smooth, nimble fingers brought the bottle to his lips again, and again, not stopping until it was empty, but he never got any warmer. As he opened another, he found himself trying to work around the computer that was now mounted to his wrist. The Overseer himself had put it on him, with the authorative air of one shackling cuffs around his wrist. He found it surprisingly light, and though it was sleeker than most models, it took some getting used to. A man named Stanley had talked him through it's handling over the communal dinner, and had also informed him that this model had previously belonged to their late physician, John DeLoria, though James could find nothing to indicate it. The memory chip was empty of any personal effects; only the patient files remained. It monitored his health with remarkable detail and accuracy, displaying every heartbeat and brainwave, the state of every bone, every vital organ, every single muscle, nerve ending, and blood vessel. It was truly a work of scientific art. Above the miniature model of himself, his name was inscribed: James Alexander Foster.

After another swig from his bottle, he flipped the dial to the left, moving away from the display to his personal notes. The file was empty, and for some inexplicable reason, he felt the need to make his first entry, to commemorate this moment to words. Above the right corner of the screen was a red button, and he pressed it. The speak emitted a faint _beep_, indicating it was recording.

"Well, here we are," he began, taking another swig from the bottle. His eyes swept the gray, metal room with a long, suffering look. "Nestled all safe and snug inside Vault 101. It's so cold down here," he admitted, the words alone sending another shiver through him. "Colder still with Catherine gone..." And he was back again, lost in memories of Catherine. He could almost imagine her arms around him, trying to ease away the loneliness and the cold. But the shivering only got worse. "Oh, Catherine... I so wish you were here with me. How the hell am I supposed to do this?" he wondered aloud. "Live in this hole. Raise our child..." His eyes fell on their daughter, sleeping soundly in the safety of her crib, swaddled in a fuzzy pink blanket that Mrs. Palmer, his newly appointed mother-in-law, had knitted for her. His gaze immediately softened, and for a moment the cold seemed to recede. Their child could afford to sleep so soundly. Because of these cold steel walls, she would never need to know fear. She would always be safe. She would grow up, go to school, make friends, work a job, and eventually fall in love, grow old, and die... all in complete safety. It was worth any price. "This is our home now," he finally said, firmly, with absolute certainty. "So I'd better get used to it." And it _would_ take getting used to. The noise of the ventilators was the least of his worries. He would be have to learn how to raise his child. Learn to live in the Vault day after day, year to year, shut away from fresh air, the stars, and the sunshine. And he would have to deal with one Alphonse Almodovar, a man so clearly drunk on his own power. "The Overseer is an overbearing bully," he muttered to himself, "but I've dealt with worse." He stopped talking for a moment. It would not do to take for granted that he was the only one who might have access to these files.

A sudden soft cooing sounded from the pink bundle of blankets, and James moved closer to the crib, silently peaking over it's plastic edge. Dark lashes fluttered on his daughter's pink cheeks as her bright green eyes opened, the exact color of his, and the exact almond shape of her mother's, and her face began to screw up as she started to fuss. Gently, he lifted her from the crib, holding the warm bundle close to his chest.

"Shh, shh," he murmured soothingly. "There, there. Shh... You're safe now. No more monsters. No more nightmares." At the sound of his voice, she began to calm, and he held her still more securely, keeping her close. "Shh... That's it. Daddy's got you…"

He watched her eyes begin to flutter once more, and she gradually settled, her breathing slow and rhythmic as she returned to her dreams. James sighed and held her for several more minutes before returning her to her crib, then stopped the recording on his Pip-Boy and quietly fell back on his soft bed. He took a final swig from the bottle and placed it on his bedside table, then closed his eyes against the dim light that simulated nighttime. Immediately the room began to swim and he allowed himself to drift.

"Home, sweet home," he murmured to his child as he slipped away. Unseen by him, a light flickered on his Pip-Boy, and the softly spoken words flashed on the screen, followed by a notice indicating the file had successfully been saved.

* * *

Author's Note: Please don't mind this short chapter, it's really more of a prologue, but if I call it that then the numbers of the chapters aren't aligned anymore, and I hate that. And I wanted the next part to be it's own chapter. It gets much longer from here, and more in depth as the LW gets older. Just one childhood chapter and then straight off to an older LW.


	2. Daddy's Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is the original property of Fallout 3 or Bethesda.

Author's Note: Moving on to early childhood. This is the last recollection until the LW is sixteen. As usual, I hope you enjoy reading it.

* * *

Chapter Two

Daddy's Girl

_September 1_,_ 2263_

And so the years passed. One moment his little girl was taking her first steps, and the next she was starting her first day of school. All the parents were escorting their children to the classroom to introduce their children to their new teacher, and James was no exception. To his immense delight, his little girl was excited about her first day of school, and was trying to urge him out of bed before five in the morning. He'd patiently told her to go back to sleep, and she wandered away with a pout. An hour later she accompanied him to his clinic where he thought he'd get an early start by getting through the morning's work with her as his shadow. She followed him at a safe distance, impatiently waiting for morning lessons, but absorbed as she observed him working. And then, with a half-hour to go before class was to start, his little girl became incorrigible, and he allowed her to drag him off to the classroom just around the corner from his clinic. He found it comforting to know she wouldn't be far away.

They were the first to arrive. A tall, dark-skinned young man James knew to be Edwin Brotch stood between the rows of seats with his back to them, and was busy setting up to projection display. As James followed his daughter into the room, the light of the display came on, and on the white board before them an image appeared. It was an cartoon-like effigy of a Vault Boy, tall and handsome, with a Vault Girl at his side and a Vault Child between them. A bold heading above them proclaimed WELCOME NEW STUDENTS, THE FUTURE OF VAULT 101. James snorted aloud, and Edwin Brotch jumped a few inches before twisting around and greeting them with a smile.

"I wasn't expecting my first new student so soon," he said. "Got an early bird there, Doc?"

"So it would seem," James said with an indulgent smile, placing one hand on his child's shoulder. "She's been ready for her first lesson since five this morning."

Suddenly his daughter walked out from under his hand, her long, wavy hair swaying about her small book bag, and approached her new teacher. Looking up into his face, her emerald eyes were intensely focused in a way Edwin Brotch had never seen in a small child; they looked him directly in the eye as she extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Alex Rowan Foster."

James watched a flicker of surprise cross the young man's face, and Edwin shot him a quizzical look. James merely shrugged and smiled, a hint of fatherly pride in his grin. The man looked back down at the child, waiting patiently with her hand extended, and raised his own, shaking her hand firmly as though she were an adult.

"Welcome, Miss Foster. My name is Mister Brotch, but you may call me Mister B if you like. It's a pleasure to meet my first student. First and best, if you're as smart as your dad."

"I wouldn't count on that," came a dry voice from behind them.

James turned around to see the Overseer behind him, little Amata's hand in his as she stood quietly at his side.

"Of course," Mister Brotch immediately said. "I'm certain Miss Almodovar is exceptionally intelligent as well."

The Overseer made no reply, fixing James with a cold look that the young doctor had long since learned to face unflinchingly, letting it roll off his back as he smiled pleasantly at Alphonse.

The Overseer walked past him, leading Amata straight to Brotch, almost knocking Alex aside, who was quick enough to step out of the way and move closer to her father. James placed a hand protectively on her shoulder as they watched the Overseer.

"Amata, introduce yourself to your new teacher," he said crisply.

Amata did so without hesitation, timidly shaking Mister Brotch's hand.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Amata Almodovar," she said quietly.

"Miss Almodovar," the teacher greeted pleasantly. "I am Mister Brotch. Are you excited about your first day of school?"

"Of course she's excited," the Overseer said sharply.

Amata nodded her head emphatically. "Very excited, Mister Brotch."

"I'm very pleased to hear it," Brotch said. He walked over to his desk and picked up a clipboard. "Miss Almodovar, your seat is right up front, on the right side," he said, indicating the correct seat. Amata immediately took it, and the Overseer nodded his approval.

"I'll return at the end of class to escort you home," he said in his warmest tone, staring down with distinct pride at his daughter. "You mind yourself, Amata, and do everything Mister Brotch asks of you."

"Of course, Daddy," Amata said obediently, smiling up at her father. For a moment, his cold demeanor disappeared, and he allowed himself a true smile as he looked down at his child. Then the moment passed, and he was walking out of the room with hardly a word of parting.

The room was silent for a moment, and Alex stared at the place where the Overseer had disappeared. As young as she was, she could easily understand that the man was uncommonly unpleasant on the best of days, and she found herself wondering what made him so. When Mister Brotch said her name, she quickly returned her attention to him.

"Your seat is just behind Miss Almodovar," Mister Brotch said. Alex's face immediately brightened as she went to join her best friend, who grinned back at her.

James watched his daughter walk away to join her little friend, and together they started talking excitedly in low voices, already opening their new book bags and preparing for their first day of learning. Gently, he ruffled the top her head, careful not to mess her carefully groomed hair.

"Have a good day, sweetheart, I know you'll do just fine," he said. Alex smiled up at him, and with a wave at Edwin, he followed the Overseer's path out of the classroom, his mind already on his newest line of experiments.

Alex hardly noticed her father leaving. She was too excited to think of more than getting through the next fifteen minutes while waiting for the rest of the class to arrive.

"Did you hear what Susie told Christie?" Amata said, her voice dropped into a dramatic whisper.

"No," Alex said with a grin, leaning forward so they would not be overheard.

"She says there's going to be _boys_ in school with us," Amata said, looking shocked that such a thing could happen. "Her big brother Wally is coming to school with her."

Alex's raised her eyebrows. From the time they were babies, the boys and girls had had separate nurseries and play areas; of course, she had seen the boys at mealtimes, but they were usually sitting with their families.

A sudden widening of Amata's eyes told her someone else had arrived, and Alex immediately turned in her seat. Three more kids had arrived with their parents. The first woman Alex spotted she didn't recognize, but she was standing directly behind a girl their age with strawberry-blonde curls, Susie Mack. Another boy who must be Wally stood beside her. He didn't look very nice to Alex; he stood glaring at the room in general, as though he had other places he would much rather be. Next to Mrs. Mack was a tiny woman she had rarely ever seen but knew to be Mrs. Kendall, and Christine stood at her side, her chin lifted haughtily in an exact imitation of her mother. And behind them was a woman Alex occasionally saw at her father's clinic, Mrs. DeLoria. Her father said she was a "very sick woman", but Alex could never understand what was wrong with her. Right now she was smiling graciously as Mister Brotch greeted her and her son; she looked positively radiant.

Alex let her eyes fall from Mrs. DeLoria and instead she looked down at her son. He looked about as happy to be here as Susie's brother, and even more hostile. His blue eyes flashed as he let his mother introduce him to the teacher, not even looking at the man. He stared around the room with a malevolent indifference, seeming not to even see the classroom and its bare walls. When he caught Alex staring at him, however, he froze where he stood, glowering at her fiercely. Alex had the impression of trying to stare down a dragon from Grognak the Barbarian, and briefly flinched away from his glare. He smirked when he saw her momentary lapse, and then quickly dismissed her, giving Amata a bored look before his disinterested gaze moved on.

Mister Brotch had finally finished greeting each new student and was checking his seat chart.

"Miss Mack, you'll be in the front seat, just in front of my desk," he said, and the girl took her seat without comment. "Miss Kendall, you'll be right behind Miss Mack." Christine happily took her seat, and immediately began chatting away with her best friend, twirling her shiny, dark hair around one finger. "Mister DeLoria, you'll be over here, right behind Miss Foster."

Her eyes immediately clashed with those blue ones again, but this time she held her ground. After a tense moment, he broke eye contact with her and shrugged. As he moved to take his seat, his mother tried to hug him, and Alex watched him shrug her off with a noise of disgust. Alex's eyebrows rose in surprise as she watched the new boy quizzically. He took his seat and looked down at his desk, ignoring his mother's goodbye and not looking up at anyone.

"Hi," Alex said quietly.

His eyes snapped up to hers, glaring at her through his mess of chocolate-colored hair.

"My name is Alex," she said, still more quietly.

The boy continued to glare at her, and she almost lost her nerve and looked away, but then he finally spoke. "I'm Butch," he said shortly. Then, "Your dad is the doc, isn't he?"

"Yes," Alex said uncertainly.

Butch made an unidentifiable noise, but did not say anything else.

Alex found herself unable to think of anything to break the silence while under that stare, so she looked away, taking a moment to compose herself as she looked around the room. Wally was in the seat behind Butch, and two more families had arrived. A dark-skinned boy who introduced himself as "Paul Hannon", and another boy with dark hair and pale, copper-colored skin that she recognized as "Freddie Gomez", Amata's cousin. While Mister Brotch greeted them and assigned their seats, Alex took another look back around the room and her eyes fell on Butch again. She gave a small start when she saw him watching her, looking neither mean nor angry.

"What?" she said, more abruptly than she had intended.

His glare returned in full force. "Nothing," he muttered, then turned his back on her, now speaking to Wally Mack.

Alex turned slowly in her seat to face the front of the room again. Amata was glaring at Butch's back, apparently having observed the whole scene. "Don't mind him. Daddy warned me not to talk to him."

"Why not?" Alex asked quietly, leaning closer to Amata so Butch wouldn't overhear.

"Daddy says he'll be 'trouble' when he gets older," Amata whispered.

_Trouble_? What did that mean? It turned out she had very little time to ponder the term before Mr. Brotch began speaking to the class at large, commanding their attention to begin their first lesson.

* * *

"Daddy? What's _trouble_?"

James looked down at his daughter as they sat at their own booth in the crowded diner. At noon sharp, almost everyone but essential personel ceased their duties and gathered for their communal lunch. James had taken a booth in the corner near the back so he could speak to his child about her first day at school without interruption.

"In trouble already on your first day of school?" he asked with curious amusement.

Alex made a face at him. "No!" She then looked quickly over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying them any attention. Leaning forward, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Amata's daddy says Butch is _trouble_."

James frowned, not answering her question immediately, considering how best to explain it to a child so young. "I suppose what he means is Butch could be headed for trouble. He doesn't have it easy. With his father gone, and his mother being sick as she is... Remember, I told you about that?" he asked. Alex nodded her head. "One might say that Butch needs a friend. A good friend," he amended. "Have you tried making friends with him?"

Alex shrugged. "He sits right behind me in school, but I don't think he likes me," she said admitted.

"Perhaps you should try again?" James suggested with a smile. "He must feel lonely, without a daddy to take care of him."

Immediately she thought of her mother, the woman she would never know. She had memorized the only existing photograph of her mother and father, standing side by side, always on display beside her father's bed, until she could visualize every detail perfectly, but she had never known a mother's love. Did Butch perhaps know how she felt?

James watched his daughter deeply considering what he said, and quietly left her to it, secretly proud that he and Catherine had produced such a kind, thoughtful child. He knew she would make him and her mother proud.

* * *

Alex was waiting anxiously in her seat for Butch to return to class after lunch. She tried not to look overeager, merely fidgeting in her seat and keeping a look-out through the corner of her eye. Then, just minutes before afternoon lessons were to start, she heard him slump into his seat behind her. Casually as she could, she turned to the side and glanced back at him. He wasn't talking to Wally, nor was he looking at her. He was staring determinedly down at his desk.

"Hi, Butch," she said quietly, offering a small smile.

He looked up at her, surprise written all over his face. "What d'you want?"

Alex frowned. "I'm just saying 'hello'."

"Yeah, well, hello," he said grumpily, looking down at the desk again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Butch said defensively.

"You just seem awful mad," Alex whispered. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" the boy almost growled. "What could be _wrong_? I'm only stuck in boring school all day. I didn't even want to come."

Alex was visibly shocked. "Why not? This is where we're going to learn everything there is to know."

Butch snorted. "I should've known you would be like that. Just like that stuck-up friend of yours, aren't'ya?"

"I am not stuck up," Alex said, not understanding exactly what he meant, but starting feeling a little angry herself. "And neither is Amata. Take that back."

Butch sniggered. "Who's gonna make me? You?"

That brought Alex up short. She had no idea exactly how she was going to _make_ him, but the taunting look in his eyes incensed her. "If I have to," she said boldly.

His eyes brightened at those words. "What can you do? You're just a girl. You're probably a cry-baby, ain't'ya?"

Breath hissed between Alex's teeth in anger. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way, and she found herself almost ready to smack his smirking mouth. Having never felt a violent emotion in her life before now, she found herself blurting an insult she had heard from one of the older kids. "Go soak your head, Butch," she said angrily, then gasped in shock at her own words. Before she could even think of a way to take them back, a sharp pain spread through her arm and she let out a cry of shock and pain, grabbing her upper arm where it now throbbed. Stunned, she looked at Butch, who had his fist raised in anger.

"Don't you talk to me like that!" he growled, raising his fist again.

Alex dodged his fist and jumped out of her seat.

Butch started after her, but at that moment a tall figure stepped between them.

"Mister DeLoria! Did I just see you hit Miss Foster?"

Mister Brotch stared down the angry child, who reluctantly backed down from his teacher.

"Yes," he said belligerently.

"You know we don't hit girls, don't you? I'm surprised at you, young man. The first day of school and already I have to write a report," Mister Brotch fumed, marching over to his desk to find the proper form.

"Mister B, please don't," Alex pleaded, still clutching her arm. "It was my fault, I started it."

"Oh, I think she _likes_ you, Butchie," Wally said snidely, grinning from ear to ear. Everyone except Amata, Alex, Butch, and Mr. Brotch laughed. Alex felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Need a girl to fight for you?"

"Pfft, I don't need you sticking up for me," Butch snarled, his neck and ears starting to turn red.

"That's enough from you two," Mister Brotch cut in, grabbing everyone's immediate attention. "Thank you for being honest, Miss Foster, but I saw Butch hit you with my own eyes."

"But sir –"

"Take your seat, Miss Foster," Mister Brotch said, now scribbling on the form. After a few minutes he tore it out of the clipboard and folded it, handing it to Butch. "Take this straight to the Overseer." He said. "All matters of school discipline are to be brought before him."

Butch shrugged, grabbed his book bag, and slumped out of the classroom.

Alex tried to ignore the throbbing in her arm as she did her best to pay attention to the morning's lesson, but she found herself partially distracted. How could that have gone so wrong? All she had tried to do was make friends. What had made her act so mean? Was she really a mean person?

* * *

"Of course you're not, sweetheart."

James watched his daughter with concern. Brotch had informed him of the incident in class, and as soon as school had ended he had confronted his daughter about it, but he'd been surprised if not shocked to hear her version of the events. "You lost your temper, that's all," he said patiently. "It happens to the best of us. It is something we must all learn to control. And when you do say something you don't mean, you should make amends. Did you apologize to Butch?"

"I was going to," she said, "but then he hit me. Hard."

James nodded. He had been informed of as much in Brotch's report, though Alex's own version of the events had been much more colorful. Concerned though he was for Butch, he didn't want Alex around a boy who was going to hit her. "Perhaps you should apologize for what you said. And maybe Butch with apologize for what he did."

"I don't think he will," Alex said doubtfully. "He seems so angry all the time."

"Give him the chance," James encouraged. "Maybe he'll surprise you."

"I hope not with another sucker punch," Alex muttered to herself.

Apologizing was never as easy as it sounded, but in the end Alex decided what she had said had not been the right response. So when they took their lunch break in the diner the next day and Butch wandered off to sit at his own table, Alex slipped away from the other children and their families to join him when no one was looking. Quietly, she sat on the seat across from him, slouching low enough that no one could see she was there.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," she whispered in a rush. Butch looked at her, first stunned, then incredulous. "About what I said. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

Butch shrugged and said nothing, and stared back down at his lunch, picking at the processed sandwich.

Alex frowned. Apparently that was not enough. Thinking of what her dad had told her, she tried something else.

"Do you remember your dad? Before he died?"

The boy's head snapped up. Again he looked angry, and Alex instinctively poised herself to jump out of the booth should he try to hit her again.

"Died?" Butch hissed. "My dad didn't _die_. He left."

Alex looked every bit as surprised as she felt. "Left?" she said blankly. "Where did he go?"

"Out there, I guess," Butch muttered. "At least that's what Ma goes on about, every time she drinks too much. He went out there and never came back."

Alex frowned even deeper. "But he can't have. The Vault is sealed shut. No one ever leaves." They had all been taught that since birth.

Butch sneered. "If that's what you believe, I guess it must be true."

Alex was startled by this reply, and found herself changing the subject. "What does that mean? 'Drinks too much'?"

"Jeez, you're dumb," Butch said. "Drinks too much. You know? Alcohol? You should know. Your dad drinks it."

"What do you mean?"

"I smelled it on him at the clinic," he explained, shrugging. "Sometimes he looks the way my Ma does when she's been drunk all night."

"But Dad said your mom is sick," Alex said, confused but afriad to admit she didn't even know what "drunk" meant.

Butch began to laugh quietly, but the sound wasn't quite right. "She's not sick, she just..." He hesitated then, and began to glare at her. "What am I even tellin' you for? You probably don't even know what I'm talking about."

Alex's frown deepened even further, but she had no come back for that. No, she didn't know exactly what he was talking about. She'd never seen her dad sick or "drunk", but her curiosity was piqued. "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry... and to find out if you're sorry for hitting me."

"_Sorry_ for hitting you?" Butch said, looking at her as though she were crazy. "Why would I be sorry about that?"

Alex was silent for a moment. "I don't know," she finally said. "I thought you would."

"Well, I'm not," the boy growled. "And I'll do it again. So you just remember to stay out of my way, got it?"

Alex was stunned, and a little upset, but she could tell he meant it. "All right," she said. "If that's what you want."

Sadly, Alex slipped out of the booth and took the empty spot next to her father and across from Amata. Her father and her best friend looked at her curiously, but Alex only shrugged and began to eat with everyone else, her mind whirring with the idea Butch had put there. Someone had left the Vault before. His dad, if Butch was right. But how could it be true that Butch's father had left? Even the Overseer said the Vault had always been sealed, and who would know better than him?

* * *

"Daddy, do we ever leave the Vault?"

James looked up from his text book in surprise, fixing his daughter with a confused stare, and then glancing swiftly out the window to make sure no one was passing by. It might be after curfew, but that didn't guarantee a passing patrol wouldn't overhear them.

"Sweetheart, you know the answer to that question," he said gently, keeping his voice low.

"'We're born in the Vault, we die in the Vault'," she said, as though chanting a litany. "I know. But does that mean no one has ever left?"

James frowned and gestured for her to come sit on his knee. Obediently she walked over and allowed him to lift her onto his lap.

"Where's all this coming from, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Butch said his father didn't die," she said earnestly, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. "He said his mother said he left the Vault and never came back. Did he really?"

James did his best to smile. "Honey, you know Mrs. DeLoria is a sick woman, right?"

"Butch also said his mother isn't sick," she countered. "He said his mother 'drinks too much'. What does that mean?"

James hesitated. He didn't think she was old enough for this discussion, but he wasn't sure outright lying to her was the best decision. "What she drinks is a kind of tonic, but she drinks it until it makes her sick," he said gently.

"Then why does she drink it? Why do you?"

"What makes you think I do?" he asked severely.

"Butch told me," she said. "He said you look like his mom when she's 'drunk' all night."

James frowned. "I want you to know, sweetheart, that I don't get drunk. Not like Mrs. DeLoria. She loses control and drinks until she can't live without it. It's not easy to understand at your age. But it wouldn't do for you to go talking to anyone else about Mrs. DeLoria's condition, understand?"

Alex nodded in mock severity. "Yes, Daddy. A doctor doesn't talk about his or her patients."

James smiled with pride. She'd done a perfect imitation of him. "Don't forget that when you're a doctor someday." He thought her sufficiently distracted, but she proved him wrong.

"So did he leave?" she asked. "Did Butch's dad leave him and his mom?"

"We all leave the Vault when we die," he said evasively. "I will one day. And so will you."

Alex nodded, accepting his answer, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, it won't due to go around talking about leaving the Vault. This is our home, sweetheart. This is where we're born –"

"– and this is where we'll die," Alex said sadly. "I wish we could leave."

"Why, Alex?" he asked, concerned. "This is home. We're safe here."

"Stupid Butch," she said, now feeling a twinge of annoyance. She looked down at the floor, swinging her feet. "Can't even say he's sorry."

James nodded understandingly. "It didn't go very well?" he asked.

"No, he wouldn't say sorry, and then he said he would hit me again if I got in his way," she admitted.

"Perhaps, sweetheart, it would be best to give him some space," he said gently. "I know I said you should try to be his friend, but you need good friends too. If Butch is going to bully you around, then you need to make a better friend. And you have Amata. She's a good friend, isn't she?"

Alex nodded, feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, the best. We're going to have a sleep over here."

"Oh, are you?" James asked, setting Alex on her feet and standing up, leading Alex back to her room.

"Well, if it's okay with you," she quickly amended, smiling as sweetly as she could. Her father only laughed.

"Maybe, if you're caught up on all your homework, and if it's all right with Amata's father, it's possible," he said. "Now, time to go to bed. You shouldn't even be up this late."

Alex climbed under her blanket, a fuzzy pink one her grandma had knitted for her when she was a baby, and added to each year. Gently, her father tucked her in.

"Now, I want you to go to sleep," he said severely. "No more getting out of bed, understand?"

"Yes," Alex said with an impish smile. "Night, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," James said, gently kissing her brow and ruffling her tousled black hair. "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Author's Note: Maybe Alex's insult wasn't the most sophisticated, but she's five, and that was probably the meanest thing she'd ever said in her life. One might ask where she would learn to say such a thing anyway, but children do have big ears.


	3. Challenging the Odds

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is the original property of Fallout 3 or Bethesda.

Author's Note: I had to work at this one a bit. And thank you very much to Cally for Betaing this for me. Children can be tricky to write, and it was a great help having a voice to keep the child LW from growing up too fast.

* * *

Chapter Three

Challenging the Odds

Intrepid though she was, Alex eventually learned to heed her father's advice. All attempts at friendly conversation with Butch DeLoria never ended on good terms, and she quickly learned to avoid him, or otherwise ignore him. Instead she focused on Mr. Brotch's lessons, diligently applying herself to achieving top grades. She spent many afternoons after school with Amata, and together they spent hours studying while secretly making time for reading comic books or playing games. Amata was a good student and an obedient daughter, equally if not more diligent in her schoolwork at her father's insistence, but year after year, exam after exam, Alex always proved herself just a bit quicker, and a bit smarter.

This did not endear her to either her classmates or the Overseer. Susie and Christine had never accepted her or Amata into their "clique", and made it a point to snub the class "nerds" for having all brains and to call them things like "dork" and "ugly". Butch, Wally, and Paul had always had their own circle that as a rule did not have room for girls, and Alex and Amata learned to avoid them at every opportunity, as the boys only got worse as they grew older. Freddie Gomez might have joined his cousin and Alex, but his obsession with becoming one of the "gang" meant he would not taint himself by having connections with a girl, even if one was a relation. And while the Overseer had never been as fond of her most of the other adults in the Vault, his attitude toward Alex gradual became colder and more hostile. She quickly learned to avoid the man as best she could, which wasn't too difficult, and followed her father's example by acting as polite as possible whenever in the Overseer's presence. Luckily their face-to-face encounters were few and in-between, as he rarely made an appearance at the classroom, or the clinic. The few times she had to see him was when he came to speak to her father, at which point her father would kindly insist she leave the clinic or go to her room.

As the years progressed, Alex and Amata began to create a shell around themselves within the Vault, keeping close for good company as they applied their combined minds to learning every subject they could find material on. Mister Brotch taught them everything he knew about the history of the world before the war, and about geography, math, and reading. As they got older they began to learn about the world through science, and they learned the laws of biology, chemistry, and physics. Teaching had been in Edwin Brotch's family since before the war and he knew things he wasn't permitted to teach in class, but he found ways of passing on further knowledge to his brightest student, who in turn shared with her best friend. When she was old enough to have a Pip-Boy, Alex was introduced to subjects like Astronomy and Robotics, which had been cut from the curriculum, and her father began to teach her his craft, beginning simply with basic first aid and medic skills, and eventually progressing to Anatomy and Psychiatry, even teaching her how to write computer programs and furthering her scientific education. He attempted to teach her everything he knew and unofficially allowed her to help him with some of his patients, most of whom were happy to give her the practice and a chance to develop her bedside manner.

Alex eagerly soaked up the knowledge, especially everything she could learn about the world beyond the Vault, and the worlds beyond the Earth. She learned everything Brotch could teach her about anything between her and the stars, and slowly but surely, a picture began to form in Alex's mind. A picture of something beyond these steel walls. She imagined a prospering world filled with technological wonders, a place of knowledge and wisdom. A place where there was always something new to see, a new mystery to explore. Eventually the picture became a dream, and the dream became a desire. Against her father's wishes, she began to wonder about life outside of the Vault. Her soul began to yearn for the world above, wanting to escape this underground cage and see everything she had only read about or seen pictures of. She wanted to know what the sun felt like, what the sky looked like, what thunder sounded like, and how it would be to watch electricity flashing above her while water fell from the sky.

And why shouldn't she be able to see these things? The only thing standing between her and the world outside was a eighteen-ton, solid steel door. Confident though she was that she could work the controls, the only thing standing between her and that door was the Overseer, and his loyal security force.

But it just had to be possible. If Butch was telling the truth and Mister DeLoria had done it, why couldn't she? Why not indeed.

* * *

"Daddy, can we leave the Vault?"

James looked up from his clipboard where he had been jotting notes and pinned his daughter with a severe frown. They were alone in his office and he had just given her a check-up to ensure she was in good health. This was one of the most important days of her life. Today she would take her Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, which would have a profound influence on her role within the Vault community from now on. He felt he could not have done more to prepare her. His angel was in perfect health, as beautiful and confident as her mother, if a bit serious like himself, and she was exceptionally intelligent. She was a perfect student, and though he would be proud of her no matter what, he found himself sincerely hoping she would follow in his footsteps and go into medicine or science. He had taught her everything he could about his profession over the past seven years, and he hoped to have her working alongside himself and Jonas, giving the latter pair more time to concentrate on his experiments. James was certain that when he was gone, she would step into his place and care for the residents of the Vault. She would become indispensable to the Overseer, and would never have to fear for her future.

Yet it seemed her mind was not on her test at all this morning, but thinking about things long since settled. Or so he'd thought.

"Where's this coming from, sweetheart?" he asked. "You know the answer to that question. We've talked about this before."

Alex looked down at the floor, bracing herself for what she was about to say.

"What I mean is can _we_ leave the Vault?" she asked quietly. "Are we truly going to live and die in this place? Will I never knew the world outside these walls? Am I truly to be trapped in here for the rest of my life?"

A ringing silence followed her words, and each second that passed was agony for both Alex and her father. Alex had been carefully forming and rehearsing these words for weeks, maybe months, and they were straight from her heart. James, on the other hand, felt as though he were trapped inside a waking nightmare. For several moments all could see was Alex, his and Catherine's clever and beautiful angel, wasting away before his very eyes. Her almond green eyes, filled with innocence of the horrors of the world above, became dull and lifeless, in the way he had seen much too often in his life. Her thick, jet-black hair, always so carefully groomed and fashioned into perfect waves that fell past her waist, became tattered, lank, and filthy, caked with dirt, grime, and blood. Her smooth, cream-colored skin became dirty and sun-burnt, dry and cracked like the dirt on the surface above. In one horrible second, he could see all possible fates that could fall upon this creature he no longer recognized, but loved more than his own life; everything that could happen to her in that ruthless, cut-throat world devoid of sympathy and decency. He saw her hooked on chems, drifting through the wastes, trying to forget who she was and selling things he didn't want to think about to get her next fix. He could see a metal collar around her throat, the horror in her eyes as she was bought and sold as though she were no more human than a pack brahmin. Worse still, he saw her being dragged away into the Wasteland by super mutants, where they would do things to their captives that no one wanted to know about, and no one ever came back from.

Then the vision cleared, and he found himself back in his lab, Alex still standing in front of him, waiting for his answer.

"Alex, this is our home," he said as gently, yet as firmly as he could. "You have a life here. A safe life. What is up there is more horrible than you can ever imagine. Your mother never wanted that life for you. I never want that life for you."

Alex sighed, her heart sinking. "How do we know everything is so terrible out there?"

"We get annual reports from Vault-Tec, as you well know," James said. "To go out there would be suicide."

"But what if they're wrong?" Alex insisted, now looking at her father with pleading eyes.

"They're not," James said quietly.

"But Daddy –"

"Alex, enough!" he said, more sharply than he'd intended. Alex looked shocked, then defiant, and then her head dropped so he could no longer see her face.

"Sweetheart, don't look like that," he said, forcing his voice back to his usual, gentle tones. He took her narrow shoulders in his hands. She was so small and fragile, the top of her head barely reached The middle of his chest. He could too easily see her being ripped apart or crushed by the world outside. "I'm sorry, Alex, but this is simply the way it has to be. Life in the Vault isn't perfect, but it is safe, it is home. Stay on the Overseer's good side, and it always will be."

"But I won't survive in here," she said in an agonized but defeated voice. "I'll die if I stay locked in this place forever."

James smiled for the first time. Though he couldn't tell her, she was so much like he had been in the beginning. For the first few years he had felt as though he was withering away, ever so slowly, dying little by little inside a steel tomb. But he had learned to live with it, and Alex must learn as well.

"This is our life," he repeated firmly, his tone ringing of finality. "You'll learn to live with it, and I know you will make it a good one. And the first step to that is scoring well on your G.O.A.T."

"I can't take it today," Alex muttered sulkily. "I'm sick. _Really _sick."

James almost laughed, but held his sternest expression firmly in place. "No, you're not, _really_. One of the first things I learned while studying medicine was how to spot a kid playing sick to get out of taking a test."

Alex smiled ever so slightly, looking abashed, and he felt a weight lift from his heart.

"Go take your test, honey, and you'll see that everything will be just fine. I promise."

"I guess," she said, grabbing her book bag and slinging it onto her back.

"Now, now, none of that," James said in mock-severity. "Be sure to give it your best. The last thing I need is your mother's ghost haunting me because her only child became a – a garbage burner."

Alex let out a small laugh at that, and James watched her leave his office with a lighter, if worried, heart.

* * *

Out in the hallway, Alex readjusted her book bag to her shoulder and leaned back against one of the support beams, conveniently out of view of the classroom and the Clinic. Filled with dejection, she covered her eyes with one hand, biting her lip painfully. So that was it then. She was truly condemned to this place forever. These walls would be her tomb. She would die inside them as certainly as she had been born within them. There was no escape. For a moment, the very thought filled her with a complete and pervasive lethargy that stole her very breath. She never wanted to move from this spot. What did it matter what she got on her G.O.A.T.? What did all of her accumulated knowledge matter inside this prison?

Alex took many slow, steadying breaths, and slowly, a spark of anger filled her, gave her strength. It began to burn slowly, a defiant flame smoldering inside her, fighting back the walls that threatened to close in on her. No, it wasn't the end of the world. She couldn't let the Vault claim her will, her soul. One day, things would change, and she would find a way out. She had to believe it, or she would truly lose her sanity. But right now, she still had a life inside this place, and a family. Her father, grandmother, and her cousin Jonas would always be here, and she would always have Amata.

Determinedly, defiantly, she pushed herself away from the beam and headed toward the classroom, and the first thing she heard pushed her own troubles clean out of her mind.

"Leave me alone, you stupid Tunnel Snakes!"

Alex's head immediately perked up at the sound of Amata's voice. She saw her in the hallways just ahead, her path blocked by Butch and his gang, the so-called Tunnel Snakes. Alex clenched her fists. Her nerves, already frayed, were not improved by the sight before her. Her friend looked angry, and even a little defensive, as though threatened. Her arms were crossed around her as though trying to hide herself, and each time she tried to step around them, Wally or Paul blocked her path while Butch remained where he was, leaning casually against the wall. She could hear his taunting voice from here. Alex often wondered why Amata's father didn't put a stop to them. They caused nothing but trouble and got away with it, while _she_ got the cold stares and cutting remarks for aspiring to be the best she could. Maybe the man really did have a screw loose.

Setting her jaw determinedly, she sprinted along the hall like a ghost, so silent they never heard her approaching from behind, and between one comment and the next, she slid to a halt between Amata and the Tunnel Snakes, seeming to appear out of thin air. Wally and Paul fell into a stunned silence, but Butch barely flinched, grinning down at her with cold, taunting eyes, as though he had been expecting her to turn up.

"Hey there, short stuff," he greeted in what he clearly thought was a charming, winning voice. "Come to join the party?"

"Party?" Alex said with mock-sweetness. "What kind of party?"

"The private kind," he replied, flashing her a grin. "Your friend Amata was just about to come with me to see a real Tunnel Snake. You're welcome to tag along."

Wally and Paul laughed stupidly.

"Yeah, show it to her, Butch," Wally said gleefully, looking Amata over from head to toe.

"Tunnel Snake?" Alex said blankly, as though she surely must have misheard. "Don't you mean your earth worm?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the hall was filled with the cruel laughter of Wally Mack. Alex ignored him, not daring to let Butch out of her sight. He was their leader, and therefore the one she must challenge.

"Oooh, you gonna take that from her, Butch?" Wally asked, crossing his arms as his gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them.

"Of course I'm not," he snapped, pushing himself away from the wall and towering over Alex. "Not from some stuck-up little daddy's girl."

Alex held her ground, but passed her book bag back to Amata and forced her to back away. Her friend needed little urging and watched the scene unfolding with wide, frightened eyes, clutching Alex's bag in her arms.

Alex, on the other hand, was attempting to stare Butch down, which was no mean feat while her head was tilted nearly straight back so she could maintain eye contact. He was much larger than her; there was almost a whole foot difference in their heights, but Alex refused to cower away from him.

"What, d'you think you can fight me, little girl?" he taunted, now sneering down at her, though she caught a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I'm only wondering how many of your guys you'll need to take down one 'little girl'," she said, sounding only mildly curious. "If you don't think you can handle me alone, you can let one of them soften me up first."

Butch swore crudely. "I don't need their help to put a girl in her place," he growled. "You two stay outta this, got it?" he snapped at Wally and Paul.

Wally didn't answer, but merely slouched against the wall, ready to watch the show. One of them would be knocked down a peg, and it obviously didn't matter to him which.

"You're the boss, man," Paul said sycophantically, covering the opposite wall.

"Alex, this is insane, don't do this," Amata suddenly pleaded. From her perspective, the odds didn't look in Alex's favor. "Lets just get out of here."

"You should listen to her," Butch said. "Before you get hurt."

"Don't worry about me, Amata," Alex said with a confidence she wasn't sure she felt, but the anger smoldering inside her kept her standing toe to toe with the lead Snake. "Butch hasn't been in a fight on his own in so long, I doubt he even knows how to hit a target that isn't being held down."

"Why, you little – !" Butch lunged for her, but Alex, filled with anger and adrenaline and educated enough to know exactly what kind of damage Butch could inflict if he hit her with all of his strength, was ready to swing out of his way, as though she were a door on a hinge. The Tunnel Snake flew past her, completely flying off balance, and with her heart pounding in her throat, Alex did not give him a chance to recover, but kicked out with one leg and sent him sprawling onto the floor.

Amata jumped even further away with a cry of shock as Butch landed at her feet. "You guys, stop it!" she cried, but Butch was already jumping to his feet again, his eyes livid and filled with the promise of retaliation.

"That was a cheap shot," he spat, circling closer to Alex, his eyes only for her. Alex felt a chill go up her spine, and her heart began to pound so hard it hurt, but her fingers began to tingle and she could feel a strange excitement flooding through her at successfully scoring a hit.

"Awww... did little Butchie get a boo-boo?" Alex taunted him further still. "Is he gonna cry? My daddy can make it all better if you like."

"We'll just see who the doc is patching up when I get my hands on you," Butch snarled, visibly trembling with rage at his humiliation.

"Then come and get me, if you can," Alex purred invitingly, preening herself for dramatic effect and showing off her small curves to their best advantage. The Vault suit left very little to the imagination, and to her surprise, she saw that Butch was indeed distracted. His gaze slid over her from head to toe. Not with the crude disdain that Wally had shown Amata, but with a burning heat that made every hair on her body stand on end. Her heart began to beat still faster as Butch started to circle closer, but his movements became more purposeful, as though her were stalking her.

Suddenly unnerved, Alex took a reflexive step back, and a sharp gasp from Amata was her only warning before two impossibly strong arms locked around her from behind, giving her no chance to escape. All the same, she struggled with all her might, kicking and flailing in a desperate bid for freedom. Unprepared for her sudden burst of strength, Wally almost lost his grip on her, but he kept her prisoner in his leather-clad arms with no small effort.

"Damn it, Wally, let go of me," she hissed, twisting around so she could push against his chest. "In case you're too dim-witted to remember, you're not supposed to interfere."

Wally smiled coldly down at her. "Have it your way," he grunted, then abruptly released her. Alex flew off balance, stumbling backward several steps, knowing what was coming next even as two strong fists closed around her upper-arms and slammed her against the steel wall. She collided with it with enough force that she was momentarily knocked into a daze. She could feel her eyes watering from shock and pain.

Butch flipped her around like a doll and lifted her up off the floor. His broad chest pinned her to the hard steel. Gradually, her vision swam back into place, and the first thing she saw was Butch's mouth sneering at her. Amata was behind him, being held back by a laughing Wally as she tried to come to Alex's aid.

"Now look who's cryin'," he said menacingly, trailing the pad of one finger under her eye where tears had collected. "And your daddy the doc isn't here to save you, is he? So what are you going to do now?"

Alex swallowed hard, holding back her fear. Butch was a lot stronger than her, and they both knew she was in a very bad position, but her mind continued to spin wildly, and she said the first thing it came up with.

"I think the more appropriate question is, what are _you_ going to do now?" she said with as much dignity as her predicament would allow.

Butch scowled, clearly not following her. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Only that now I think you should have your lackey let go of Amata."

Butch laughed in her face, and Wally and Paul were quick to join in.

"And why would I do that?" he asked with feigned curiosity. "When I'm done with you, I can always do her for afters."

"Sure, I guess you could do that," Alex mused. "I wonder what the Overseer will have to say about it when he finds out."

Butch swore crudely and slammed her into the wall again. "He's not going to find out nothin', cause ain't neither one of you bitches going to tell him."

It was Alex's turn to laugh, and she almost felt giddy as the tension and the danger started to hum between them. "Butch, even if you scare everyone in the Vault, you don't scare me. You can't make me keep quiet."

"Oh, can't I?" he asked scathingly. "You and your friend are coming with us, and you're not leaving until we've reached an understanding. Bring that little bitch while I got this one."

Alex's eyes flashed to Wally's. "Oh, yes, Wally, your ever loyal lap dog. Is it true he'll do _anything_ for you?"

"What the fuck was that?" Wally snapped.

"Well, everyone in the Vault knows you do everything Butch tells you," she said sweetly. "Does he really have a Tunnel Snake down there or is that just his switchblade he's pushing into my hip?"

"What the fuck –" Wally stuttered, and he suddenly shoved Amata away. "Fuck this. Wally Mack is no one's bitch. I'm outta here."

Before Butch could say anything, before anyone could react, Alex took her chance and slammed her head forward, smashing her forehead into her captor's nose. A sickening crack echoed down the hallway and in an instant Alex felt Butch release her as he started swearing and yelling. She dropped to the floor, and the moment the rubber tread of her boots found purchase, she shoved Butch backward as hard as she could. Caught off guard, he crashed into Wally, but Alex did not stop to watch what happened.

In a flash, her hand caught hold of Amata 'round the elbow and she tore down the hallway with her friend in tow, not stopping until they rounded the corner and skidded to a halt in front of the classroom. They were both panting slightly from a mix of adrenaline and fear, and panting and trying to hold in their nervous laughter as they walked into Mister Brotch's classroom.

"Well, nice of you two ladies to join us," said a dry voice from the front of the room.

"Sorry we're late, Mister B," Alex panted, still short of breath as she dropped into her seat behind Amata.

"You've actually still got a few more minutes," said Mister Brotch. Then he looked at Alex more closely, eyes narrowed. "Is that _blood_ on your face, Miss Foster?"

Her hand immediately jumped to her forehead, but she had to feel around for the trickle of blood over her left brow. Hastily she wiped it away. "It's not mine, Mister B."

"Somehow, I don't know if I should be relieved to hear that," he said dryly. Alex only smiled, but gave no reply.

"Just another minute," Mister Brotch said, checking the time on his Pip-Boy. "Those three better hurry –"

As the words passed through his lips, a tattoo of heavy footsteps approached the classroom, and everyone turned in their seat in time to see Butch, Wally, and Paul troop through the door. Butch was holding a ripped scrap of blue cloth to his nose, hiding it completely from view. Alex saw a trace of blood darkening the fabric.

"Is something the matter, Mister DeLoria?" Brotch asked, not even bothering to sound concerned.

"Gno," Butch snapped, the noise muffled.

"Then I'll have to ask you to put away all items but your pencil," Brotch said. "For test reasons. Can't take the chance that you've got the answers hidden inside that cloth."

Butch gave the teacher a murderous glare, but flopped into his seat behind Alex and removed the bloody cloth, stuffing it away in the pocket of his jacket. The moment he did a gasp and a flurry of whispers filled the classroom, and Alex couldn't resist the chance to look with everyone else.

His nose looked squashed and purple, and was swollen with dried blood lingering about his upper lip. Alex looked boldly at his face from her seat, even managing to appear concerned.

"My God, Butch, what happened to you?" she asked innocently. "Did you walk into a door or something?"

Butch gave her a look that promised retribution, but Alex only smiled broadly. He wouldn't be able to say anything about it. Butch DeLoria would lose his reputation if anyone knew that _she_ had bested him in a fight.

"Gnone of your business," he growled, now looking down at his desk.

"Well, I'm sure my daddy can _patch that up_ for you no problem," she said cheerfully.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to have him do that," he replied with heavy sarcasm.

Alex smiled. "Suit yourself. I personally think it'll be an improvement if your face gets stuck like that."

"That's enough, Miss Foster," said Mister Brotch, and Alex could have sworn she heart a hint of laughter behind his words. "Face forward, it's time to start the G.O.A.T."

With a grin, Alex did as asked, presenting Butch with her back without another word. Mister Brotch dimmed the lights and immediately launched into his speech on the G.O.A.T. as he handed two stacks of answer sheets to Susie and Amata. Amata took hers and passed the remaining ones over her shoulder to Alex.

After plucking her own out from the remaining three, Alex passed them back without turning around. Instead of taking the papers, a warm hand closed around her wrist and pulled her sharply backward. Alex held back a wince, and over the speech Mister Brotch was giving, she could hear a low whisper.

"You won't be so lucky next time," Butch hissed, "and I'll be looking forward to that day."

After giving her wrist a painful squeeze, Butch released her and took the two remaining answer sheets.

Alex smiled to herself and leaned over her own answer sheet, pencil poised and her heart still pounding hard against her ribs.


	4. Future Interrupted

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is the original property of Fallout or Bethesda.

Author's Note: I edited this chapter as best I could. Spent more days editing than writing this chapter. As always, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it, and I hope for feedback.

* * *

Chapter Four

Future Interrupted

Mister Brotch waited calmly at his desk as his students finished their tests. Already Miss Almodovar was rising from her seat, Miss Foster only a step behind her, and not for the first time the teacher felt a twinge of conscience as he watched his best student join in the short line to have her test graded. He had been at this for many years, and knew instinctively what her slated career path would be, but it was down to him whether or not she would achieve it.

Or, more correctly, it was down to the Overseer. Though the big man himself rarely tampered with the futures of blossoming Vault citizens, every once in a while he took a... special interest. If there were a student who caught the Overseer's eye, such as Wally Mack, whom he was considering for his security force, he would inform Mister Brotch and the teacher would alter their test result, earning himself a modest bonus and the continued security of his job. The student would find himself with a prestigious career, the parents were proud of their offspring, Brotch would live with a few extra creature comforts, and no one was ever the wiser.

Other times, however, he was asked to prevent a student from entering a specific field, or in this case _range_ of fields, and he was ordered to direct them to whatever alternate career was best suited to their abilities.

The first to reach his desk was Miss Almodovar, and he made a show of scoring her test. _Hmmm_... _Vault Chaplain_..._ God help us all_... He could just imagine the ideas the Overseer would devise could he manipulate the faith of the Vault citizens through his daughter. Though she did not an active social life within her peers, she was well loved among the older vault generations. He was almost glad the for the Overseer's interference in her case.

"Well, well," he said, and smiled warmly at Amata. "It looks like you're slated for the Supervisory track. Well done, Miss Almodovar."

Amata beamed at him and he felt his heart stutter for a few beats.

"Thanks, Mister Brotch," Amata said, then turned away with a small wave. "See you tomorrow."

Edwin Brotch almost sighed as he watched her leave, but did not get a chance to ponder the cruel ironies of life before the next student was standing on the other side of his desk. Brotch swallowed convulsively as Alex handed him her answer sheet. He couldn't quite ignore how hopeful and pleased she looked. Without a word he glanced down at the paper and took his time scoring it.

And, just as he'd guessed, she was destined to follow in her father's footsteps as a doctor. But she wouldn't. He glanced over the answers again, looking for a secondary option... Of course; science. Researcher and Inventor, as it were. The second field the Overseer had forbidden. Once again through the answers... _Hmmm_..._ Tattoo Artist_? She certainly had very steady hands, even for a chemist.

Mr. Brotch gave a low cough to clear his throat and turned his face up to hers, even as his eyes remained determinedly fixed on her paper.

"Huh. 'Tattoo Artist'," he said, using his most neutral tone. "I wonder who will be brave enough to be your first customer. I can promise, it won't be me."

Silence met his weak stab at humor, and against his own wishes he looked up at her. She was stunned speechless.

"Miss Foster, did you hear me?" he asked, sounding vaguely concerned.

"I don't think so, Mister Brotch," she said firmly, as though it were an impossibility.

"Tattoo artist," he repeated. "Honestly, I had thought that had been phased out, we haven't had one in over forty years. But the G.O.A.T. never lies."

"But that can't be right," she said, clearly confused, and Edwin Brotch felt another twinge from his conscience. "Could you grade it again?"

"I'm afraid it is right, Miss Foster," he said in his most authoritive tone. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. Now, I believe you are holding up the line."

Mister Brotch watched her leave the classroom in a daze, but before he could chastise himself too badly a distraction arrived in the form of something he's been looking forward to for a long, long time.

"Ahh... Mister DeLoria..."

* * *

"_Here_ you are, sweetheart. I had thought you would stop by the Clinic and let me know how your test went."

Alex sat at the table in their small living quarters where she'd been since the G.O.A.T. had ended hours ago, staring blankly down at the polished surface before her as though it wasn't even there. When she heard her father's voice, she turned her head away from him; she couldn't bear to face him, much less talk about her test.

"Honey? Is something wrong?"

He sounded concerned now, and when she still didn't answer, he joined her at the table, moving close enough to take one of her hands.

"What happened, Alex?" he asked, his concern palpable. "How did your test go?"

Alex swallowed hard, pushing down the lump that had been blocking her throat all day. "Not the way I thought it would," she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her. "You're looking at Vault 101's new _tattoo artist_."

Silence followed her admission, and when she could no longer stand it, Alex looked up at him. Her father looked as shocked as she felt, and somehow it made her feel worse.

"You're sure, sweetheart?" he said.

"Absolutely. Mister Brotch was kind enough to repeat it for me when I asked."

James was suddenly on his feet. Alex looked up at him in surprise.

"Wait here, sweetie," he said. "I'm going to go have a talk with Mister Brotch."

He left without another word and Alex watched him go, feeling distinctly unsettled. What was he going to do? What _could_ he do? She knew her father didn't have the authority to overrule Mister Brotch, but she had never seen him look like that before. Immediately, she too was on her feet, ready to follow him, but then remembered he'd told her to stay at home.

Her hesitation lasted only a moment, and then she was on his tail, unable to wait in anxiety while her future possibly hung in the balance.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this, Edwin?"

Edwin Brotch looked up from the stack of homework he had been grading for his younger class and swallowed audibly.

"Hello, doc, I wasn't expecting to see you here," Brotch said with a brave attempt at sounding pleasantly surprised.

"The hell you weren't," James said angrily, bracing himself over the desk until he was almost nose to nose with the teacher. Brotch had never seen the man anything but calm, and if he was honest, this new side of the doc had him unnerved at the least. "Tattoo Artist? Is this some kind of joke? You've been Alex's teacher for eleven years! You, of all people, know she's better than that!"

Brotch swallowed and nervously pulled at the collar of his Vault suit to loosen it.

"I'm sorry that you're disappointed, James, I really am, but the G.O.A.T. doesn't lie."

"No? What about people?" James hissed, and Edwin felt beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. "People in power are so easily given to corruption. You teach history in your classes, I believe. You should know this."

"I don – I don't know what you're talking about," Mister Brotch said. "I'm only a teacher. What is it that you're suggesting?"

"Perhaps the doctor is suggesting that you would have reason to fabricate the results of the G.O.A.T.," came a dry response from the doorway.

Both Edwin and James looked toward the door to see Alphonse Almodovar standing just inside the classroom with his usual air of unruffled authority.

"But to suggest such a thing without proof or motive of any kind," he continued calmly, "would be considered slander against a valued member of the Vault and could even reflect negatively on the Overseer himself. I'm sure you'll agree that causing such doubt and unrest would be most... unwise."

James made no reply, but his mind was suddenly whirling as he continued to watch the Overseer, his face impassive.

Alphonse said nothing more on the matter and looked dismissively away from the doctor to fix his frigid stare on Edwin Brotch.

"Amata's just told me the good news," he said, his tone infinitely more smug. "Supervisor. I couldn't be more proud. Surely some of the credit goes to you, Mister Brotch. You have been her teacher for these past eleven years."

"Don't – don't mention it, sir," Mister Brotch said, dropping his gaze down to his desk. "Miss Almodovar is an exceptional young lady, and certainly takes after her father."

"Indeed, that she does," Alphonse agreed. "Often, such a trait in one's child is a blessing. Other times..." – his eyes rested briefly on James once more – "decidedly not."

The Overseer allowed that to sink in for a moment before turning to leave. "I bid you both good day."

James stared at the place the Overseer had vanished for several silent moments before he could bring himself to face Brotch, a man whom, up until this moment, he had held in high regard.

"So... this is how it is," he murmured, his voice returned to it's usual calm, and yet Brotch flinched as though he'd shouted at him. "There is no honesty or integrity in this world, not even inside the safety of a Vault. A seemingly harmless teacher is as cold-hearted as any mercenary, ready to steal even a young girl's future for the right price. How the souls of our forefathers must be shaking their heads in shame."

Brotch could say nothing to this and stared at his desk as he listened to the doctor leave without another word. When he was gone, the teacher slumped into his chair with a long sigh from the depths of his soul. He found himself wondering if his father, or even his grandfather, would truly be shaking their heads at his actions. The task of educating all the young minds of the Vault had always been the duty of the Brotch family. Had any of his forefathers ever committed the lies and betrayals he had?

Even if there was an answer to be had, it didn't matter. The fact was that Alphonse Almodovar had not been Overseer in their day, and Edwin Brotch, like everyone else, did what he had to do to remain in the Overseer's good graces.

* * *

_Shuck-shuck_. _Ping_! _Shuck-shuck_._ Ping_!

_Shuck-shuck_. _Click_._ Click_.

Alex sighed heavily and set her BB gun aside to start the painstaking process of collecting every small metal BB from the floor, making sure not to leave even one behind as evidence of her time there. Her mind, however, was hardly on the task at hand, and she had to double- and triple-check ever nook and cranny before she'd found them all. When she'd finished, she tucked the tin into her pocket and slouched against the nearest wall, allowing herself to slide down until she was sitting on the floor, lost in thought over the snippets of conversation she'd heard while hiding outside Mr. Brotch's classroom.

She hadn't been able to overhear everything. Just as she was about to follow her father, the Overseer had appeared, strutting down the hallway from the opposite direction, and she'd dived behind a pillar. To her surprise, the Overseer followed the same path as her father. She'd hesitated a few seconds, then crept closer to the open door way on the far side, where she would be in the shadows when anyone came out.

And then she'd heard things she wasn't sure she wanted to understand, but one thing she couldn't ignore was what her father had said about stealing a girl's future. What did had he meant by that? Had her true future somehow been taken from her? Stolen? But how could Brotch have been party to it? And why?

After having his final say, James had walked out of the classroom while Alex remained hidden, and instead of heading home, he walked straight into his Clinic. When she felt brave enough to peek in the windows, she saw him sitting at his desk inside his office, alone and unmoving. Unable to think of anything she could do, she'd made her way home to wait.

Later, long after dinner time had come and gone, her father returned. She'd gone to the diner and eaten alone, where she watched her peers celebrating with their families. None was more proud than the Overseer, who boasted about Amata making Supervisor to everyone who greeted them. It wasn't long before Alex pushed her food aside and left the diner, wondering how it would have been if that had been _her_ father boasting to all the other parents. That should have been him. She and Amata should be talking excitedly together right now, but now Alex did not want to face her friend, to offer an obligatory 'congratulations' she did not feel. She took the most direct path home where she'd stayed up late waiting for her dad, who finally returned several hours later. At first she could smell something funny wafting off him, but didn't recognize the scent; his eyes looked vague and bloodshot. Alex found she was not brave enough to ask him about the conversation she'd overheard, but she'd still greeted him happily, hoping that he had come up with some brilliant solution that would fix everything.

It was not to be. With sad eyes, he'd looked up at and told her they would simply have to accept the results of her test, and she would have to make the best she could of it. Nothing more had been said after that because Alex did not want to hear it. She'd immediately gone to her room and locked the door, where she sat on her bed in complete shock, wondering how this was possible. After only an hour, she emerged and spotted her father sitting on their little green couch. He watched her with concerned, miserable eyes, and his expression tore Alex apart.

"Can't we just leave?" she had asked, sounding almost petulant. "I hate it here. And now I'm going to be stuck in a dead end career for the rest of my life. How can you make me stay?"

Even faced with her misery her father would not be budged, absolutely forbidding she entertain such an idea again, and she'd returned to her room to pace round and round the small chamber long after she heard her father retire to his own room. When the pacing did nothing to temper her anger or assuage her sorrow, she'd decided a late night excursion down to the reactor level was exactly what she needed. Without further consideration, she packed her disassembled BB gun into strategic places within her Vault suit and book bag, then stealthily made her way down to the storage room on the reactor level. After setting up her targets she'd shot through the entire tin of BBs four times; each time a tiny metal ball hit its target it was followed by a curse at the injustice of the world around her, but now she only sat dejectedly against the wall, unable to hold down the lump in her throat any longer.

How could this happen? She'd always known, even as a small child, that she wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. Medicine and science were all she'd ever aspired to, and she'd given everything she had in pursuit of that dream. Her grades were the best of anyone in her class. She was a model student and worked hard at her duties in the Vault. And what did it all amount to?

Nothing. She wasn't going to become a doctor like her father, or even a scientist like her mother. She was destined to become a _tattoo artist_. There was no way to advance from that job, no way to move up, make a difference. It was a job, nothing more, nothing less. It was just something to keep her busy and out of the way.

Alex pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face between her knees. She was imprisoned in this Vault, and she would be trapped in some job that would be a complete waste of her skills and intelligence. How could it get any worse?

"Well, well, look at what we have here."

Alex's head snapped up so hard she heard a loud crack, and the sight of Butch DeLoria standing just inside the door of the storage room did nothing to improve her mood.

"What are you doing here?" she said automatically, her voice thick even to her own ears.

Butch smiled with his typical arrogance. "A Tunnel Snake goes wherever he wants, whenever he wants. We own this Vault."

Alex gave her eyes an exaggerated roll. "In that case, maybe you can _go_ somewhere else. Like the oven in the crematorium, perhaps?"

Instead of being angered, the lead Tunnel Snake only smiled and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his leather jacket.

"I don't take orders from no one," he said complacently, lighting a smoke and taking a drag. As he inhaled deeply, she saw his eyes flick over her face, and she quickly looked down and wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hands.

Butch blew out a stream of smoke. "So what happened to you?" he asked. "Did Freddie the Freak turn you down again?"

"Fuck off, Butch," she snapped.

Butch raised an eyebrow in surprise. "That's some language you got there. Do you kiss your daddy with that mouth?"

Alex shook her head in disbelief. "Forget it," she said, then tried to stuff her BB gun into her book bag without him noticing it. She'd have to risk carrying it home in one piece. Maybe she could stop and disassemble it on the way, but that might be more of a risk.

"Then what's got you down here crying like a baby?" he asked.

"None of your business," she said primly, standing up and swinging her book bag over her shoulder. Butch stayed slouched back against the door, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"You'll need to move," she pointed out calmly, remaining where she was.

Butch flashed a grin in her direction.

"Didn't I just say I don't take orders from no one?" he asked, and Alex felt her temper flare up to take the place of her sorrow. In a few short moments she was seething, her grief and frustration fueling the flames of her anger. She saw the Tunnel Snake's smile only widen in response, and she felt the insane urge to take the injustice of her life out on him.

Desperately, she held on to her control. "Well, seeing as I can't walk through walls yet, you are blocking the only way out," she explained, as though talking to a simpleton. "I can't very well leave with you standing there."

"Maybe, just maybe, I don't want you to leave," Butch mused. "Maybe I haven't forgotten how you humiliated me in front of my gang this morning."

"Funny, but your nose looks just fine to me," Alex observed. "Have my daddy patch you up after all?"

"You'd like to think so," he said. "Nah, just set the bone back in place and let one of them Stimpacks take care of the rest.

"Then no harm done," she said, shrugging.

His cold blue eyes glinted at her. "Not yet."

Alex shifted her book bag on her back, glowering at him. "What exactly is it you want?"

His smile slowly shifted into something else; an expression that made her heart kick up a notch and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"I promised next time you wouldn't be so lucky," he said, his tone dripping with smugness. "And who would have though my lucky night would come so soon. I came down here for a quick smoke, and here you are, all alone. I'll bet daddy doesn't even know you're here."

Alex grit her teeth. "As if I need my daddy to protect me. Like I said before, I'm not scared of the big, bad Tunnel Snake. I've already drawn first blood. I can do it again, if you insist."

Butch flicked out the cherry of his cigarette and stored the remains in his pack, then slipped it back inside his pocket. "Oh, I'm not too worried about that. Now that I know you've got a little fight in ya, I won't be letting my guard down again."

Alex set down her book bag, her heart hammering against her ribs and the air thickened between them. "So what are you going to do, Butch?" Her very nerve endings were humming with energy, screaming for action. "Are you going to send me back to my daddy with a few broken bones to fix?"

"Why don't you come closer and find out," he said smoothly, even as he started inching closer to her. "I promise I won't hurt you _too_ badly."

Alex moved away from the wall so her feet wouldn't get tangled in her book bag. "You should know I'm not that stupid," she said. "Why don't you just go home before I break your face again."

She knew she could hardly take Butch in a match of strength, and she was hoping her speed would be enough. Slowly her muscles became taught, her heart pounded still faster, and her anger burned within her, urging her to do something daring and reckless. Like putting Butch DeLoria in his place once and for all.

For Butch, he had never seen anyone, especially not someone of Alex's build, stand up to him. And especially not a girl. Freddie Gomez would have fainted dead away by now, and these days most females in the Vault invited his attention more than challenged it. Yet it gave him a strange satisfaction to see her staring him down, ready to put up a fight.

As he edged closer, she tried to manuever around him, always shuffling away whenever he got to close. He knew she was waiting for him to charge her again, but the Butch-man didn't fall for the same trap twice. Bit by bit he let her gain more ground, waiting until the last second before forcing her to retreat; they moved as though they were partners in some macabre dance. Slowly, but surely he forced her further back toward two large storage crates, both of which were almost as tall as her.

It was obvious when she became aware of her predicament. He saw her eyes widen and her posture stiffen, and they both knew it was too late to avoid the trap. He barely had time to smile gloatingly when she suddenly turned and lunged toward the crates, jumping high enough to get her hands underneath her, then swing her legs up after her. She showed no hesitation as she rolled across the surface, stopping on the far side well out of his reach.

"Come on, baby, I thought you wanted to fight," he taunted her with a wide grin.

"That doesn't mean I'm fool enough to let you back me into a corner," she said, crouching on top of the crate to maneuver more easily. "We both know I could never take you on in a fight of strength alone."

"Then what's your plan?" he asked, now genuinely curious.

"I'm working on it," she said proudly.

Butch laughed. Not mockingly, but a real, deep laugh that echoed around the room. For only a second he took his eyes off of her, and in that second he felt as thought the wind had been knocked out of him. Something hard collided with his chest, and he looked down in shock to see what had hit him. Alex had launched herself off the top of the crate, slamming her body against him with the force Wally Mack might have exerted if he were to punch Butch in the chest. Butch had no hope of keeping his balance and toppled backward, the air rushing from his lungs as he landed flat on his back.

The force of her momentum sent Alex flying over him, and she rolled and slid across the floor, grappling to right herself. When she finally got to her feet she saw Butch on the floor, gasping desperately for air, and for a brief moment, she considered returning to the attack. Another moment later sense took hold of her, and without giving him another thought, she lunged for her book bag and then ran for the door. As quick as she could, she turned the wheel that would unseal the door, then pulled with all her strength. The door was a solid foot of hard steel, and it did not move quickly for her; before she could get it open wide enough to slip through, a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her back. One wrapped tightly around her arm, his fingers digging into her soft flesh and nearly cutting off the flow of blood, and the other reached out to push the door shut again.

Though her instincts told her to fight back, a more apprehensive voice told her to wait. His eyes were like two chips of blue ice, staring down at her coldly, but peculiar flames burned behind them.

"Nice try for a daddy's girl," he said mockingly, if a little breathlessly, as though her hit had been mere luck. "Too bad you're not fast enough to get away. That door can be a real problem for a weak little thing like you."

"So it would seem," she conceded, a trickle of fear tingling up her spine. "So now what?" she asked, doing her best to feign calmness.

"For starters lets say we get clear of this door," he said, and without waiting for a response he dragged her after him, ignoring her protests and struggles as he wound deeper into the storage room, moving back among the crates where they were easily concealed. "There," he said, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned down at her, "a bit more privacy back here."

"Come on, Butch, you're not really going to hurt me, are you?" she asked, availing to whatever sense of reason he might possess. "You know I was only defending myself when I broke your nose. It wasn't personal."

"Not personal, huh?" he said, smiling as though he were humoring her.

"Not at all," she said. "And look at you, no one would ever know your nose looked like a detonated cherry bomb."

Butch grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah, maybe, but my gang saw it," he countered, "and a Tunnel Snake can't afford to lose face in front of his gang."

"Perhaps we could work something else out, and we'd be even," Alex suggested hopefully.

Butch's looked down at her thoughtfully, and Alex had the immediate impression she'd said the wrong thing.

"Perhaps we _could_ work something out," he said. Alex felt an abrupt change in his hold on her. Butch let go of her arm and was now cradling her bottom in his hand, pulling her hips forward until they were indecently close; his other hand slid up her back to catch her head in the palm of his hand, tilting her face up toward his, and Alex found herself overwhelmed by the smell of smoke, leather, and sweetly scented pomade.

"Wait, this isn't what I meant," Alex protested, her eyes wide as her hands pushed against his chest as hard as she could, struggling to get some distance between them. Butch held her in place easily, and within a matter of moments she could feel her heart beating furiously in her chest; the trickle of fear was flourishing inside her, and her struggles became more violent. The Tunnel Snake pinned her to the steel wall, restraining her wrists with one hand. Only when her strength started to ebb did she notice him breathing heavily above her; his heart was pounding hard against his chest, and without warning he suddenly lifted her from the floor, keeping her pinned against the wall, until her hips were aligned with his and she could feel something hard jutting into her belly. Alex knew enough about anatomy and sex to know what she was feeling, but the reality was more than she had been prepared for, and something deeper than reason compelled her to defend herself. With renewed strength she tried to force him away, tried to squirm out of his grasp so she could flee, but if anything his hold only tightened on her and a low groan was torn from his lips. In a flash his hand slipped down her thigh and hooked around her knee, pulling her leg up and around his slim hips, then repeated the motion with the other, and Alex stopped struggling abruptly, shocked to the core at sensation of their bodies pressed so intimately together. His breathing was ragged and uneven, and a free hand slid up her back again and tangled in her hair; he cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand and brought her face up to his. Alex defensively crossed her arms in front of her and tried to force some distance between them.

"What are you going to do, Butch?" she asked bravely, a faint tremor in her voice. "Are you going to force yourself on me like some kind of Old World heathen?"

His smooth lips curved into a wide smile as the ice in his eyes melted. "Don't you worry about that, pussy cat. The Butch-man never needs to force a girl." Before she could argue, his hand tightened in her hair and tipped her lips up toward his. Very gently he brushed them with his own, and Alex froze in shock. Her very first kiss... it was nothing like she'd expected... His lips were smooth and warm, softer than she'd have thought, and before she could regain her bearings, his lips brushed against hers a second time. Alex felt her insides slacken, if only a little, and a curious warmth spread through her lips, leaving them more pliant as his mouth descended on hers a third time. There they lingered, gently coaxing her to open for him, and she felt his lips imprinting on hers; against her will, her eyes began to flutter closed and her lips parted only slightly, but it was enough for Butch. He wanted to taste her, but held back, resisting the urge to ravish her mouth. She wasn't fighting him, and a move like that would only have her resisting again. He was patient as his tongue explored her mouth, and could feel his own heart, already pounding, start to beat unevenly as he coaxed her tongue into joining his. Little by little, she started to respond, and as she did, her body started to mold itself against his own, until no space existed between them but their clothes. He urged her arms up around his neck, and as they found their way they pulled him closer and he felt her arch into him with a soft moan. A fierce urgency was starting to drive him onward, and his kiss turned rougher as his hands began to move over her body blindly, searching for her bare skin, but before he could even reach the front zipper of her jumpsuit, a ringing voice made his blood freeze.

"What the devil is going on here?"

In a flash Butch and Alex broke apart, and Alex felt herself dropped to the floor. Her feet barely caught her, but when she'd righted herself, she looked horrified up at the source of the voice.

Her father stood at the opening in the row of crates, illuminating the scene with the light on his Pip-Boy, and staring at what lay before him as though he could not believe his eyes.

"Just what is the meaning of this?" he said, now glaring at the DeLoria boy. The kid had never been capable of even the most basic forms of respect and decency, and it was apparent nothing had changed. The rebel stood straight and cocksure, grinning back at him as though being caught feeling up James' daughter was a normal, everyday occurrence.

"Hiya, doc," Butch said with his typical arrogance. "Bit risky being out after curfew, isn't it?"

"One could say the same to the pair of you," James replied curtly. "Just what was going on here?"

"Well, you're the doc, ain't ya?" Butch asked. "I'm sure you know the basics."

Alex gasped in shock, then sneaked a quick glance at her father, who looked neither ruffled nor affronted, though there was a certain stiffness in his posture.

"Get out of the way, Butch, I'll be taking Alex home now," James said.

Butch grinned. "Don't let me stop you."

And without another word he strutted past Alex's father and out of the storage room.

Alex did not dare take another glance at her father. She knew she was in trouble now. First her G.O.A.T., and now she was out after curfew, caught red-handed, and kissing Butch DeLoria of all people.

"Get your bag, sweetheart, lets go home," she heard her father say gently. She looked up at him again and saw he looked neither angry nor disappointed. He looked... tired. Quietly, she did as asked, and followed her father out of the room, turning off the light behind them.

Beneath her misery, Alex was vaguely aware of the fact that they encountered none of the night patrolmen. Their path was clear, and her father seemed to know exactly where he was going, leading the way without any apparent concern that they might be caught out after curfew.

After what felt like an eternity, they were home once more, and James quietly turned to face his daughter, who stood clutching her book bag in her arms. But before he could speak, Alex found her voice.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she murmured, staring at the floor again, unable to meet his silent regard. "I'm sorry about my G.O.A.T... and for sneaking out."

"Oh, sweetie, what happened with the G.O.A.T. wasn't your fault," he said, striding forward and taking her shoulders in his hands. "Sometimes things happen in life that we can't control. We just have to learn to live with them. But I don't blame you, and I certainly don't want you to blame yourself. And I think I half expected you to go down to your firing range. When I went to check on you and didn't see you in your bed, it was the first place I thought of."

Alex nodded, her misery returning full force in the face of his calm understanding. She had been so caught up in her own unhappiness that she hasn't stopped to think of the consequences, and she hadn't stopped to think that her father might be worried about her.

"Now, how did Butch happen to be down there with you?" her father asked sternly. "I didn't know you were even friends with him."

"I'm not," Alex said quickly. Almost too quickly, she realized. "Really," she added, looking up at him earnestly. "He was smoking down there, and when he saw me there, he just wanted revenge cause I broke his nose earlier."

"You broke his – ?" James said incredulously, and then he shook his head. "I wondered what had happened to him, but he wouldn't say, and he wouldn't let me treat him either. I thought maybe his moth –" James cut himself off, and Alex quickly covered his lapse.

"Yeah, well, I saw him and his stupid gang harassing Amata before the test, and I had to do something," Alex said defensively, still expecting to be reprimanded.

James smiled down at her. "Well, I'm not happy that you got in a fight, but it's a good thing you did, defending your friend. And I won't lie, I'm glad you were able to handle yourself."

For the first time since her G.O.A.T., Alex laughed and felt some of her misery ebb. "He's so cocky, he thinks everyone is scared of him. But I can handle him."

"Yes, I certainly saw that," James said, and Alex blushed furiously.

"Yeah, well, wrong place, wrong time, you know?" she said, now looking at the floor again.

"Just watch out for him in the future, sweetheart, and don't go wandering off on your own like that," James said. "If this boy wants to hurt you, you mustn't give him the opportunity. I don't want you sneaking off after curfew again, understand?"

Alex nodded obediently. "I won't. I'm tired, Dad. I think I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"All right, then," James said, giving her a brief hug and a gentle kiss on her brow. "I love you, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."

Alex smiled. He had said that to her every night that she could remember, and somehow at this very moment it gave her a measure of comfort. She murmured her goodnight, and once she was alone in her room, she took apart her BB gun and hid the pieces, her mind a vivid, chaotic blur of feelings and images, and for the first time she thought through the events of the day. She found herself wondering if she'd had some kind of breakdown and if this day could have been one long horrible nightmare; maybe tomorrow she would wake up in the Clinic or something and none of it had happened. Though this hope had appeal, she couldn't fathom that she'd ever lose her mind enough to have ended the fiasco by kissing Butch DeLoria, and then top it off by getting caught red-handed by her father. Her reaction to Butch kissing her had completely undermined every righteous intention, and she found herself more than a little shaken at the memory. What could possibly be the matter with her that she could actually _like_ the feel of him touching her? Was she really that miserable that anything felt good in comparison? She didn't like that idea. The breakdown sounded like a much better theory. Butch was an asshole. Everyone knew it. Only air-headed bimbos like Christie and Susie found Butch attractive and let him anywhere near them. She was a lot smarter than that.

But... then again, if this day had really happened, her smarts didn't seem to count for much. She wanted to be a doctor, and she couldn't have that. She wanted to leave the Vault, and she couldn't do that. No matter how smart she was, it didn't change her lot. Perhaps someone like Butch was the best she could hope for. And how many better choices were there anyway? Freddie was a weakling and a follower, desperate to fit in with the gang. Wally was no better than Butch. And Paul was a loser, or, more specifically, the Tunnel Snake's loser, born into sentient life purely for their entertainment.

It seemed likely that she would grow to be old, miserable, and alone in this place, always held back from her dreams. At least doing something meaningful with her life like her father would have meant something to her. What was left to her?

And then there was tomorrow. Already, it loomed over her, just waiting to be faced. Butch would likely brag about to everyone who would listen about how he'd knocked the 'daddy's girl' down a peg. And of course, in an isolated society like Vault 101, everyone would know before lunch time.

And she would still have to face Amata once she made it to class tomorrow. What could be said? Her best friend had made _Supervisor_ and she... was going nowhere.

Yeah, she'd definitely have to go with the breakdown theory. It was the only thing that made sense right now, and just maybe the only way she'd get any sleep.

* * *

James did not sleep at all for the rest of the night. He had never felt more sick at heart. He could do nothing at all about the interference in his daughter's future, and he could see the pain it caused her. For the first time, he wondered if he had done the right thing in bringing her here, but words he'd rehearsed so many times before came to his immediate defense, saying that it was the best option possible in a world that had so little to offer. The innocent and virtuous were mere fodder in the world above, and just being in the wrong place at the wrong time could make the difference between life and death. It was best that they were here, where life wasn't perfect but at least they were _alive_.

Alex would get through this, and he would be there for her as long as possible. Eventually things would change. Alphonse Almodovar wouldn't be the Overseer forever, and when he was replaced maybe Alex's future would change. It was the best he could hope for.


	5. Room 17B

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is the original property of Fallout or Bethesda.

Author's Notes: Thank you thank you very much to those who left reviews for me. This isn't the most exciting, action packed chapter either, but it is a necessity for the plot. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Five

Room 17B

Alex was deliberately late to class the next morning in the hope of avoiding anyone before lessons, but as she approached the classroom the first thing she saw was Amata, who stood waiting for her outside the classroom door. Her first instinct was to turn around and go back, but her friend had already seen her, so she kept her feet moving forward. Her attempt at a smile felt more like a grimace, so she kept her face carefully blank.

Amata seemed to feel the same way. For a moment they just looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Then Amata took a deep breath and spoke. "I heard about your test. My father told me."

Alex nodded numbly.

"Yeah, I can just imagine what he might have said."

Amata winced and crossed her arms. "I tried talking to him, I really did. I told him there's no way your test results could be right... As usual, he wouldn't listen to me."

With a sigh, Alex looked down at the floor; it was easier to speak that way. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. I'll have to be, won't I?"

"Yeah," Amata said. "I just... I was completely shocked. I couldn't believe it. Are you sure Mister Brotch scored your test right?"

"I watched him score it three times before he told me what I got," Alex said, looking back up. "He seemed very certain."

Amata frowned. "He scored it three times? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, maybe he couldn't believe it the first time either," Alex replied with a shrug.

"Maybe," Amata said. "Your dad wasn't upset, was he?"

"Not with me," Alex said. She wondered then if she dared tell Amata what she'd overheard, but anyone could overhear _them_ in this very spot, so she shrugged again. Amata took this as a sign to go into class, but Alex stopped her. "I – and I just wanted to say... congratulations on making Supervisor."

How ever difficult it was to get the words out, Alex felt a weight rise off her when Amata smiled and thanked her, albeit a little sadly, and then the moment was over and they entered the classroom together.

To Alex's surprise, no one was sitting at their desks, but were instead gathered around the chalkboard where a list had been compiled of the students names, and next to them, a new schedule.

"What's this about?" Alex asked. Her eyes immediately scanned the crowd and she knew immediately Butch wasn't there. A second scan revealed that Christine Kendall and Freddie Gomez were also missing. "Where is everyone?"

Amata looked hastily down at the floor. "We're being assigned Occupational Instructors for our On-the-Job Training. We won't be having school full-time anymore."

"Oh," Alex said awkwardly. She approached the board with Amata, unable to help paying attention to the other students' chatter. Nothing seemed amiss. Everyone was talking excitedly or dejectedly about their G.O.A.T. results, and were looking forward to their first day on the job; she didn't catch word of anything concerning her or Butch.

When she could finally get past the people blocking her view, she looked down the list for her name.

_Alex Foster - AM_:_ HoloInstructor Room 17B - PM_:_ HoloInstructor Room 17B_

"Well..." she said to Amata, who stood on her left. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."

Alex did not give her friend a chance to respond, and as she dashed out of the room she supposed it was common sense that she wouldn't be expected to go to class anymore. What more could she learn there, and to what purpose would she put it? The only thing that made a difference in her future anymore was learning how to master her new occupation.

She trotted past the Clinic at a quick pace and took the hall straight to the Atrium. She had never even heard of room 17B, so she stopped briefly to check the map on her Pip-Boy and made her way straight there. The room was off the lower Atrium with two wide windows on either side of the door, which opened as she approached. The space was long but narrow, and it had an air of disuse. The back wall held another door directly across from the entrance that presumably lead to an office or workshop of some kind. Along the wall to her right was a long, cushioned bench and next to that a reclining metal chair rose out of the floor on a swivel. To her left was another swivelling metal chair with a low sink beside it, and in front of it a workstation and a mirror.

Feeling a little confused, Alex approached the next door and brushed her fingers over the sensor, causing it to slide open. Back here was another room of equal proportions, but instead of metal chairs there were two long workbenches, two storage shelves, and two utility sinks, and to the workstation on her left sat Butch. His back was faced to her and his eyes were fixed on a terminal that for some reason had been placed on one of the storage shelves, and his posture suggested he was bored to death with whatever he was watching.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The Tunnel Snake jumped in his seat, then swivelled around to face her. When he saw her standing there his bored expression dissolved and a cocky grin was readily in place.

"And just when I thought I'd have this place all to myself," he said, getting to his feet. Alex took a step back and bumped into the door that had closed behind her.

"Great, just what I needed to make my day," she said as brusquely as she could. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," he said smugly, but she could almost see him laughing at her as he watched her discomfort. "The G.O.A.T. says I'm a hairdresser, but try telling Brotch that that ain't me. I'm a _barber_. There's a difference."

"Oooh, a _barber_, I see," Alex said derisively. "Sounds like they really screwed you over."

"I know, right?" Butch said, grinning a her. "So why're you here?"

"Don't you know? You're looking at Vault 101's new _tattoo artist_," she said dramatically. "Not doctor. Not scientist. I'm a tattoo artist."

To her surprise, even Butch looked rather stunned, but he quickly overcame it and grinned at her again. "Guess that means we'll be spending time together. Maybe finish what we started last night, hmm?"

Alex took another step back and planted herself firmly on the spot, just inside her half of the office. "You can just stay over there and keep to yourself, understand? Now I've got work to do, so don't bother me."

The Tunnel Snake shot her another grin and retook his seat with a casual air of indifference. Alex, meanwhile, let out a long sigh and forced herself to face her work area. Immediately she saw a stack of holotapes on her workbench beside on old terminal that looked at though it had been carelessly dumped there. Alex set her book bag aside and approached the terminal, hooked it up and hit the power button. It turned on and began the process of loading its programs, and Alex turned around to grab her book bag, only to find Butch still watching her from the other side of the office.

"What?" she snapped.

"Just enjoying the view from my side of the room," he said easily.

Alex scowled at him. "Right. While you're enjoying it, just remember to keep your hands to yourself and we'll get along just fine," she said, grabbing her book bag a little viciously and digging inside it for her notebook and a pencil.

His grin only widened. "You don't mean that. Once you've had a taste of the Butch-man, it's never enough."

"On the contrary, I was thinking we could just go on like that never happened. I mean, we don't even like each other, right? It's bad enough we're going to be stuck working in the same room, we don't have to make it more miserable than necessary."

Butch smiled at her assessment of the situation. "That's exactly what I was thinking. But maybe us working together isn't such a bad thing. So long as we're both here, we could make it more – interesting."

"First of all, we're not working _together_," Alex asserted. "You have your job. I have mine. But for some ungodly reason we're stuck sharing an office and a workplace, so the least we can do is keep it civil and ignore each other."

Butch shrugged. "If that's how ya want it."

"That's exactly how I want it," Alex affirmed, turning her back on him and taking her seat in the chair in front of the terminal. "Now, I've got my own HoloInstructors to get through, if you don't mind," she said dismissively, sliding the first disc in the holodrive and accessing the file.

Butch did not bother her again, and after a few covert glances over her shoulder to assure herself he was busy with his own work, she soon became lost in the tutorials. It was only halfway through the introductory lesson that something that should have been obvious revealed itself to her. _Artist_. She was going to have to draw out these tattoos. She'd never even tried her hand at art, had never drawn so much as a doodle. Frowning to herself, she made a mental note to practice before she came back tomorrow. According to these discs, she would need to first create the design on a sheet of thin paper, hundreds of which were supplied in a box on the top storage shelf, and when applied to the skin it would leave a copy of the design that had been drawn, which would at least make it easier.

The next holotape went on to talk about the ins-and-outs of her tattoo gun, showing her how to take it apart and put it back together, and then how to use it. The head of the gun was made to be pressed against the skin and a trigger was held to activate a low-energy laser, and several different shaped heads were available to attach to the end of the tattoo gun to create different patterns. Colors were applied using circular colored crystals that were inserted along the barrel of the gun, which allowed for two to be inserted at a time, one of each rudimentary color, and the laser beam passed through them; she could adjust the power level, which was supplied by energy cells, to change the intensity and shade of the colors, which would be permanently burn into the skin.

It all sounded rather unpleasant to Alex, but as usual she took her notes meticulously, then spent an hour taking the tattoo gun apart and putting it back together. After a few hours she even managed to forget her surroundings and fall back into her own routine of study. She only glanced up from her work several hours later when she felt a hand give her shoulder a small shake.

For a time she had been so lost in her own world that when she felt someone shake her she looked up with a smile, vaguely thinking she would see Amata, but the smile quickly dissolved into a look of confusion when she saw Butch standing over her.

"Hey, nerd, it's time to go," he said. "You can take your new toys home and play with them there."

Alex frowned at him, then down at the energy cell she'd been taking apart, suddenly remembering where she was and why. She nodded and abruptly put her tools down, then started packing the pieces away in small cases. She was forced to empty her bag of all her books to fit all the cases into it, and stopped only to save her work and turn off the terminal. With the heavy book bag slung over her shoulder and an armload of books, she turned toward the door to leave, only to realize Butch had been standing there watching her. She looked at him suspiciously.

"What?" she asked.

Butch shrugged. "I was just wondering what you're doing here. You _are_ a nerd, ain't ya? Don't you belong doing some job nerds do, using math, and robots, and stuff?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Very astute of you. If you've gotten that far, perhaps _you_ can figure out why I'm here. I don't exactly know."

Butch scowled. "All right, I get it. You're mad. Even I know you don't belong working a cool job like tattoos. Who'd you suck up to to get this favor?"

Alex stopped in her tracks, stunned by the candid way he'd said what she'd been trying to put together for twenty-four hours. No, this certainly wasn't a favor, but he was right in essentials: who had she pissed off to get cast in this role? Mister Brotch would certainly have no reason to hate her. He was her teacher, had helped cultivate her intelligence since she was five years old. The only person in the Vault who was overt in his dislike of her was – the Overseer. Was that what that snippet of conversation between her father and Mister Brotch had really meant? Amata's father had been behind this?

"That's a really good question, Butch," she murmured. "Maybe I should figure that out."

Butch walked her walk away in confused silence. What was she going on about? Then he shrugged. It didn't really matter. He was finally free of this place and his boring companion. Time to meet up with his brothers and hit it!

* * *

James frowned at his daughter's closed door. She had barely said a word to him when she'd come home, and had almost immediately disappeared into her room saying only that she'd be "working". He'd expected something different than this after her first day on the job, but he could hear the sounds of her tinkering away inside her room, so he left her to it, glad that she was at least keeping busy. When dinner time came around, he had to order her from her room, and she reluctantly joined him in the diner, where they took a small booth for themselves, but were soon joined by their family.

"There you are, dear," Old Lady Palmer said, smiling widely as she slid into the seat beside Alex.

"Hi, Grandma," Alex said sullenly, looking fixedly down at her food.

"I never did get to congratulate you on your G.O.A.T. yesterday. Jonas said you came to the diner and went with hardly a hello."

Alex glanced quickly up at her cousin. Jonas was her dad's assistant, and while he studied medicine, he was more skilled as a medical technician. Yesterday she'd thought they would be working together, but now it almost felt as though she were looking at a stranger from a future that had never come to pass.

"I wasn't feeling well," Alex said quietly. "All the excitement of the day."

Her grandmother smiled. "When I learned about your test, I couldn't believe what I'd heard. You clearly get it from me."

"What?" Alex said, looking up, visibly confused.

"I'm was quite the artist back in the day," Lucy went on. "Couldn't find the time for it as I got older, but I still keep my old sketchbook."

"I don't know if I can do art," Alex admitted. "I've never tried. Do you think you could show me how?"

"I think I still remember the basics," her grandmother said thoughtfully. "Just come on over to my place when you get done with training tomorrow and I'll teach you what I can remember."

Alex nodded and looked back down at her food. At least that was one less worry to think about. As soon as she was able, she excused herself, and as she left the diner, James signaled Jonas to accompany her. He had confessed to his assistant about the incidents Alex was having with that DeLoria boy, and he wanted to make sure no harm came to his daughter. All the same, he watched them leave together with concern written all over his features.

"She'll adjust," he heard Lucy say. "We all do."

James sighed. He knew she was right, but –

"I almost fear how the 'adjustment' will change her," he confessed quietly, thinking of a number of his patients; Freddie Gomez, Beatrice Armstrong, and Ellen DeLoria were at the forefront of his mind.

"She's smart and strong, like her father," the old woman said. "And she knows how to speak her mind. She'll get through this. I'm sure she'll rise above it and find a way to make something of what she's got."

"Yeah... maybe..." James said. He prayed with every fiber of his being that she was right.

* * *

Nine long days later, Butch was ready to blow this joint. He'd sat through one or two endless HoloInstructors until he couldn't take it anymore. The only reason he even learned anything was because a few people had started coming for his barbering expertise. He had only just got the hang of cutting hair, but this kind of thing just came to him, and as usual his work had the girls coming back for more. After more than a week he figured it was time to start getting through the next holotape, but he was ready to fall asleep by the end of the first lesson. Frustrated, he pushed away the keyboard and kicked back in his chair, spinning around to watch Alex. As usual, she was silently perched on the edge of her seat, drawing on that pad of paper, sometimes tearing sheets away and crumpling them before tossing them on the floor, other times furiously comparing sketches from earlier pages, all in complete obliviousness of his existence.

To say the least, this galled the Serpent King. He'd never been ignored so completely by a girl before, but somehow she pulled it off. After a frosty greeting each morning, she disappeared into the back room and started working on her sketches, and probably would forget to go home if he didn't tell her when it was quitting time. He never saw her go to the diner for lunch; she just stayed on her side of the office, drawing as though her life depended on it.

_He_ on the other hand had never been so preoccupied by a girl. It didn't help that they were forced to share this room five days a week, but he found himself mystified that she could so easily ignore him after what had happened between them. Had he imagined her reaction to the whole thing? He thought not. He was a good judge of females, and though he'd never kissed a girl like _that_, she had kissed him back. And typically that meant that he, Butch, would only be a few minutes away from getting underneath that jumpsuit. Instead, he'd been wrong, and her old man had come along and ruined every bad intention he'd had planned for that goody-two-shoes. Yeah, he might have gotten a bit carried away, but she'd have gone right along with him if she hadn't had a chance to use that brain of hers.

He was briefly distracted from his thoughts when a crumpled piece of paper landed near his foot. Curious, he picked it up and flattened it out, held the surface to the light, and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Alex asked distractedly, her back still facing him.

"I didn't know you could draw a snake that good," Butch said, as though giving his professional opinion. "Maybe you could cut one on me sometime."

"Sure, right on your tunnel snake," she said distractedly.

"Ouch," Butch said. "Those are some sharp little claws there, pussy cat."

"You've more than earned it," she said sweetly, now erasing a line.

Butch stood to his feet and stretched his legs. He'd taken all he could of the HoloInstructor for one day. Idly, he wandered across the room to look over Alex's shoulder at what she was drawing.

"Ah, now that one's better," he said, and he saw her jump slightly in her seat. "Why the sudden fascination with _snakes_?"

"I assure you, it has nothing to do with you," she said. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

"I'm taking a break," he said lightly. "You should join me."

"I'm busy," she said shortly.

"Work, work, work," he groused. "That's all you do. You don't even stop to eat."

"I've got a lot to do," she said, as though it was the obvious explanation.

"It'll be waiting here when you get back," Butch said, then, before she could stop him, he reached over her shoulder and plucked the sketch pad out of her hand.

"Give it back, Butch," Alex said, glaring up at him.

Butch almost laughed out loud as she gave him her most threatening look.

"If you think you can take it, go ahead," he said, holding up the sketch pad.

"What, are we _eight_?" she snapped, holding out her hand, palm up. "Give it back."

"I don't think I will," he said began rifling through the pages. Immediately, Alex jumped up to snatch it out of his hands, but he was ready for her and jumped back, holding it high above her reach. "These first few are really good... but the next ones – is that a sheep?"

"It's a flower!" Alex said. "Give me back my book."

"Hold on a minute," he said pleasantly. "They're getting better. You could go a little easier on your curves. Just let them flow."

"What would you know about it?" Alex asked, glaring at him, still reaching for her book.

"Hey, who do you think made these bad ass snakes for our jackets?" Butch asked, presenting her with his back. "That's Butch-quality work right there. Nothin' else like it in the Vault."

Alex looked at the design and saw that he was quite right, much as she hated to admit it. She'd never taken a close look before, but the quality of the design was obvious now. The hissing green snake was curved into a flowing, ornate letter 'S'; it's staring yellow eyes seemed to be looking right through her.

"You know, this _is_ pretty good," she allowed. "How'd you get to being that good?"

"Pure skill, baby," he said, coming about to face her again.

"Seriously," she said. "Do you think you can help me at all?"

"Hmmm... the class nerd asking me for help..." he mused. Alex glared at him and before he could react had snatched the sketch book out of his hands.

"Forget it," she said quietly, then turned her back on him and returned to her workbench and picked up her pencil again.

Butch stared at her back in surprise. _What did I say_? When she didn't turn around, he shrugged and took his seat again. On an impulse, he pulled out his smokes and lit one. At the sound of flint striking steel, he saw Alex turn around and stare incredulously at him. He maintained his usual arrogant look and blew smoke in her direction.

Alex shook her head. "It's on your head if security smells it."

"They won't do anything about it," he said complacently.

"And why is that? Is the whole security force afraid of the terrifying Tunnel Snakes?"

Butch smirked. "In a manner of speaking."

Alex raised an eyebrow, but when he offered nothing else she shook her head again.

"Want one?" he offered.

"I don't think so," she said.

"Why not? Maybe it'd help you chill a bit."

"Don't even try, Butch," she said sternly. "You're not going to win this one."

"Does that imply that I'll win others?"

Alex glared at him. "And what exactly is there to win? Do you still want your revenge? I think you've had it. I'm pretty sure you told your gang all about how you played around with the daddy's girl by now."

"Maybe, maybe I haven't," he said calmly. "Are you this distrusting of everyone, or am I a special case?"

"What do you think?" Alex said, now irritated. "I have no reason to trust you at all. We're not friends. You've made it clear since the day we met to stay away from you. I've done my best, but all the same, I draw the line at you harassing my best friend; as for this situation, there's not a thing either of us can do about it."

"And how is Amata?" asked Butch. "I wonder, how much have you seen of her since we took the G.O.A.T.?"

Alex shrugged. "Often enough." In truth, she had not seen Amata at all since her last day in Mister Brotch's classroom, considering she avoided the diner when during the afternoons and did not linger at dinner time.

Butch's smile was too perceptive for her liking, and she shrugged. "Oh, what's it to you?" she asked, and before he could answer, she turned back to her drawings and pushed him from her mind.

It was just as well. To the Tunnel Snake's surprise, he found he didn't exactly have an answer. In the end he could only conclude he was bored with the monotony of this job already, and provoking Alex was much more entertaining than enduring these HoloInstructors. All the same... maybe best leave her alone now. He had plenty of time to have fun with this during the long hours of boredom ahead.


	6. Separate Ways

Discalaimer: I don't own Fallout 3.

Author's Note: Okay, I know it's been a long time since I updated. I've been working on IW&L for a while, but that story has drained me dry. I need to work on something else for a while, and this caught my attention. Been so long I actually had to read it again. On the other hand, it has given me plenty of time to forge some new ideas. Now, Alex is still suffering the psychological backlash of her GOAT results, and this chapter is where she finds her footing again and prepares to keep forging ahead. Enjoy and review :)

* * *

Chapter Six

Separate Ways

As the days and weeks went by, James Foster's concern for his daughter only grew. A full month had passed since the G.O.A.T. and his little Alex spent more and more hours at her job; even on her days off she could be found in her room, pouring herself into whatever she worked on in there as though it were the meaning to life itself. While he had initially been pleased that, instead of wallowing, she kept herself busy, these days he could hardly persuade her to join him and their family at the diner during the evenings.

With his many years of experience as a doctor, he knew without a doubt what she was doing. Everyone who had trouble adapting to life within the Vault developed a some kind of coping mechanism. Some turned to the bottle. Others to pills or chems if they could get them. Even he had dipped into his secret stash of scotch when the pressure became too much. It seemed that for Alex, burying herself in work was the answer, even if it was work that she would never find fulfilling. She had always been an excellent student, dedicated and hardworking, but this was something else, and she didn't seem to want to open up about it.

Worse still, the strain of it was starting to show on her. She seemed to be growing thinner, dangerously so given her small size, and she no longer took care of herself like she once had. Shadows were starting to form under her eyes, and her hair, once so shiny and well-kept, was now a wild mess down her back.

James drummed his fingers over the top of his desk, wondering what he should – what he _could_ do, but only came up empty. He wanted his and Catherine's child to find happiness, not numb herself until she didn't have to think anymore.

As his thoughts continued to ramble on in vain, a soft knock at the door to his office disturbed him, and James rubbed his tired eyes before calling out for them to enter.

"Good morning, Mister Foster."

The voice was hesitant, but warm and gentle. The Doc opened his eyes and beheld Amata; she stood in the doorway of his office looking as though she wasn't entirely sure she should be there.

"Miss Almodovar," he greeted, trying to sound as welcoming as he could. He even tried to smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"I think I sprained my wrist," Amata said, looking a little sheepish as she held up her right hand.

"Just have a seat on the examination table and let me take a look," James said professionally. As he stood up from behind his desk and went to the sink to wash his hands, he pulled his "Doctor" mask firmly in place, covering his own worries, and examined the proffered wrist with concerned interest.

"Where is your father?" he asked, suddenly becoming aware of the man's absence.

"Oh, well... he was busy," Amata said evasively. "I didn't want to bother him over a silly accident. Freddie didn't do it on purpose, and it doesn't hurt so bad."

"Freddie?" James asked. "Supervising down in the Waste Management Level?"

"Um... yeah," she said. "Daddy says I should develop an understanding of each level of the Vault so I – so I can better supervise its citizens."

James nodded absently, turning her wrist over and moving her hand this way and that. "How did this happen?" he asked.

"The shift had just started, and Freddie couldn't get the door to his incinerator open. He kept yelling that it was stuck, so I went to help him. When I reached him, he was still pulling on the hatch, and suddenly it flew open. Freddie flew into me." She winced as the Doc moved her hand up and down. "I landed on it pretty hard. I wasn't going to make a fuss, but then it started to swell and... I though of asking Alex, but..."

"No, the Overseer wouldn't have approved," James said, confirming her unspoken concern. "You did right to come here, though perhaps not without your father."

"Yes..." Amata said, glancing away shiftily.

"I think you'll be fine with just a brace and some painkillers. I'll need to notify your father of any prescription I give you," he warned her. "Of course, a Stim would fix it in minutes."

"Just the brace should do," Amata said hurriedly. "It doesn't hurt much."

James nodded and left to retrieve a wrist brace. As he secured it around her wrist, he gave his daughter's friend a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye.

"It's a lot of trouble," he said quietly, "keeping such a silly accident from your father."

"Hmm? Oh... yes," Amata agreed guiltily. "I know he'd be angry, but I –"

"Yes?" James prompted gently, looking away as he focused solely on his work.

"Well... have you talked to Alex lately?" he looked at her in surprise, and Amata blushed in embarrassment. "That is – I mean, I know you live together and everything, but... does she talk to you?"

James hesitated over his answer. No, his child hardly spoke a word to him despite his efforts. She wasn't angrily ignoring him due to some fit of teenage hormones; she was simply withdrawn.

"I talk to her, yes," James said, answering her first question. "Don't you?"

"I try, when I actually see her," Amata admitted. "We're both busy during the day, and even when I see her in the diner, she leaves in a rush. I though I would just give her space for a while, but..."

Consumed as he was with his own paternal worries, James could clearly see that Amata's concern over Alex rivaled his own. He knew what it was like to miss someone; a someone who was, in every respect, your closest friend, your 'right hand'.

"When you were children, you two would spend hours spinning outlandish plans for the future," he remembered sadly. "You were both going to be just like your daddies; you would play Overseer and Alex would play Doctor. You planned to take care of the Vault, just the two of you."

"We dreamed up some very good ideas, though," Amata defended good-naturedly. "Even you told us that if anyone could make it happen, we could."

James silently weighed his next words in his mind as he finished adjusting the brace. When he'd done all he could do, he took a step back, looking at Amata evenly, speaking as though to an adult, and not a teenager.

"The funny thing about growing up is that plans change," he said quietly, but clearly. "And I think, in Alex's mind, that means her whole world has come to an end. And when people think they have reached an end, they do what is most in their nature. In Alex's case..." He paused for a moment, then said, "As her father, all I am saying is that I think Alex really needs her best friend right now. If she knows you're there for her, she would know that not everything has changed."

Amata seemed to consider this seriously, then she nodded and hopped down from the examination table. "Thank you, Mister Foster. I think I kinda sensed that, but it's good to hear someone else say it." She nodded again for emphasis. "Anyway, I'd better get back to work now."

"Go easy on that wrist for a few days. If it continues to swell or hurts any worse, have your father bring you in."

Amata looked slightly abashed, but smiled and waved goodbye as she left the Clinic.

James couldn't help but feel a bit hopeful after she left. Perhaps Amata could get through to Alex where he could not.

* * *

"Is my best gal hungry after working nonstop all morning?"

Alex rolled her eyes as she continued to tinker away with the power gauge on the laser gun. Butch had started calling her all manner of pet names in an effort to get under her skin, but once more she remained impassive, only shrugging as she remained hunched over her workbench.

"Leave it on one of the shelves, I'll get to it later," she said without looking up.

"Didn't catch that. Are you speaking to me or your shiny toy?"

Alex looked up before she could stop herself, but her retort was brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of Butch carrying enough food rations for at least five.

"Is that all for you or have you invited guests?"

"It's just us, baby girl," he said, looking rather pleased with himself, though for what exactly, Alex wasn't certain she wanted to know. "Come on, just take a break. It'll still be there when you get back. Besides, you're getting a bit skinny, don't you think?"

"Fattening me up? That's your brilliant argument?" she asked sardonically, but none-the-less, her feet were already taking her away from the workbench. She _was_ hungry, and she _had_ been getting thinner from missing so many meals.

"If it works, I'll use it," the Tunnel Snake said proudly.

"Fine, but only for a few minutes. I'm almost finished adjusting the energy output to maximum capacity."

"Uh-huh. So what are you doing over there?" he asked. "Making some kind of super-laser gun?"

Alex looked at him in astonishment. "I'm surprised you followed that."

Butch gave her a brief scowl, and Alex could see a slight flush rising around his neck. "So what? It's not like I'm stupid or something."

Alex smirked. "Coulda fooled me sometimes... Well, make that most of the time."

His glower only darkened, and he stopped her when she tried to take a few rations from where he'd placed them beside his terminal.

"Nope, come sit over here with me," he said demandingly.

"Why?" was Alex's immediate response.

Butch shook his head and smirked. "Just drag your chair over here and sit down. It's not like I'm going to bite."

"You sure about that?" Alex said, remaining suspicious anyway as she pulled her chair to his side of the room.

"Well, maybe if you ask _really_ nicely..." Butch waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and Alex found herself grinning at his antics in spite of herself.

Deciding one quick lunch wouldn't hurt any, she parked her chair within the same general vicinity as him, just close enough to reach the food. After a full minute of silence, and without the immediate distraction of work to keep her occupied, Alex felt the urge to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. What did one say to someone after more than a solid decade of hostility? She could hardly even believe that it was Butch eating so calmly just a few feet away from her.

"So, no customers yet?" he asked suddenly.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk about work?"

Butch smirked. "I was gonna ask about your super gun over there, but I though it might be too personal on the first date."

It was on the tip of Alex's tongue to snap that this was most certainly _not_ a date, but when she saw the teasing glint in his baby-blue eyes, her voice failed her. It was a few more moments before another instinct told her to snap her mouth shut, and when she did, he smiled knowingly at her.

"No," she said, forcing a nonchalance. "No customers. It doesn't seem like anyone is too eager to have my first mistakes branded permanently into their skin."

"Well, no, not if you pitch your sale like that," Butch said, looking uncomfortable at the thought himself. "You could try putting some of that art work of yours in the window. You're getting pretty good."

"You went through my sketch pad?" Alex asked, both irritated and exasperated.

Butch didn't appear to have even an ounce of repentance. "It's not like I've got anything better to do when traffic slows. And you're not exactly 'all here' most of the time."

Alex shook her head and said nothing else.

However, barely half-a-minute had passed before he spoke again.

"Is it _really_ a super-laser gun you're making over there, or are you just getting my hopes up?"

"I don't know about 'super', but I think it will qualify as a laser gun when I'm done with it," Alex admitted unabashedly. "And what's this about getting _your_ hopes up? It's not like I'm going to let you play with it."

"Of course you will," Butch said confidently. "I don't think the Overseer would view weapon-making as being in your job description, and now that I've seen it, you'll want to keep me happy – and quiet."

"I suppose he wouldn't approve," Alex grumbled. "But who cares what that puffed up old geezard thinks."

Butch nearly dropped his next bite halfway to his mouth, but caught it quickly. "Wow. Coming from Daddy's-Little-Girl, them's fightin words. What did the big man do to get your panties in a bunch?"

Alex glared at him. "That's none of _your_ business."

Butch raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "Whoa kitty, sheathe the claws. I didn't mean nothing by it. Your little toy over there is enough rebellion to convince me."

"Convince you of what?" Alex asked suspiciously.

"That you've realized there is nothing to be gained by kissing ass all the time and always being a good little girl."

That brought Alex up short. For a moment, she considered his words, but then shook her head. "You think I'm becoming some causeless rebel like yourself?" she asked.

"Who needs a cause other than their own needs?" Butch countered. "When you make a point to always look out for number one, the rest falls into place."

"What about your gang? All for one and all that?"

Butch shrugged. "Even a Tunnel Snake known when to look out for himself."

"Is that why you didn't make security like Wally Mack?" Alex asked, smiling now. "The Overseer knows you'd be too headstrong to train to his hand and too wild to control?"

"Could have been," Butch said without any concern. Then, "Is that why you didn't make Doctor? Because he knew the same is true about you?"

Alex's relaxed smile faltered at that, and she looked down at her hands, empty now that she had finished eating.

"I should get back to work," she said abruptly, not allowing even one though to stray down that particular path.

Butch stared at her in surprise. "Something I said?"

"No... no, I just want to complete this before I go home tonight."

Butch watched her work for a few moments while he polished off what was left of the rations. Alex muttered words to herself and ran diagnostics that he couldn't hope to understand, and consulted equations that, for him, might as well have been written in ancient Greek. Hell, she could probably read that, too.

Butch was no dummy, but he knew that Alex was a lot smarter than himself; yet, looking at her now, scribbling away on a notepad that she wrote her equations on, he didn't see the nerdy bookworm he had always known. The look on her face was determined, but preoccupied, almost haunted. For some reason, he found himself recognizing that expression, and forced himself to look away before he saw too much. At that moment, however, a bell chime told him there was a customer waiting for him out front. Putting on his most charming, self-assured smile, he jumped from his seat and strutted his way out of the office, ready to gift another lovely lady with his craft.

* * *

At the end of the workday, Butch reminded Alex when it was time to leave as he had done since their first day, and, for reasons that were oblivious to Alex, he tried speaking to her again as she packed up her tools and experiments.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?" Alex asked, loading her work into her backpack to take home.

"_Is_ that why you didn't make Doc?"

Alex stiffened, then shrugged her small shoulders dismissively. "Could be. It's no secret that he doesn't particularly like me. Maybe you were right in your first assessment. He thought I wouldn't be easy to control, so he set his sights on my more amenable cousin."

"That Jonas guy, right?" Butch said, looking as though he were trying to remember something unpleasant. "My Ma brings him home with her every once in a while."

Several of the plastic cases she was shoving into her backpack bounced off the floor. "Tell me you're joking."

Butch laughed at the look of complete shock on her face. "No joke. They sneak into her room late at night, drink, smoke, and fuck." When Alex continued to look scandalized, Butch shrugged as though it were no big deal. "It's just a pity-fuck. Though I'm not sure who is more pitiful."

Alex tried to shake the very idea out of her head as she retrieved the dropped cases. "Don't even talk like that. I don't want to hear any more."

Butch only laughed at her obvious discomfort, but thankfully dropped the subject.

"So what exactly is the laser for?" he asked. "Going to settle a score or something?"

"Certainly not," Alex said immediately. When Butch only looked at her doubtfully, she elaborated, "I just need _something_ to do. For my own sanity... I mean, it's a laser. What else would I do with it?"

"Guess you got a point," Butch agreed complacently. "I imagine it'll make a nice light show at the least."

They fell silent for a few more moments, and with each second that ticked by, they both became increasingly aware of what was happening. They had just had a calm, casual, and even friendly conversation. Perhaps it wasn't a normal topic, but after so many years, the change in pace was impossible not to notice. Alex fidgeted uncomfortably, then snapped the buckle on her backpack with a bit more force than necessary.

Just as Alex was trying to coerce her voice into saying something intelligent that would also get her out of this, they heard the bell indicating a customer had entered the parlor.

Alex turned away and swung her bag onto her shoulder. "That's probably a last minute customer for you," she muttered.

"No... I'm sure it's for you."

Not taking him seriously, Alex turned to leave, but when she saw the girl standing on the other side of the open door, she stopped mid-stride.

"Amata," she said, blatantly surprised.

"Hi," Amata said quietly.

No one said anything more, and Butch glanced from one to the other, picked up on the awkward tension quickly building between the two, and decided it was time to split.

"I'll catch ya later, pussy cat," he said to Alex, and with a jaunty wave, he vacated the scene.

"What was that about?" Amata asked, genuinely astonished.

"Search me," Alex said, equally perplexed by the Tunnel Snake's behavior. Then the moment passed, and they returned to an uncomfortable silence.

"So... I was just headed home and – um –" Alex trailed off uncertainly, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the other.

"I'm off work too," Amata blurted. "I was hoping that – well, we could just hang out. Catch up and have coffee or... something."

Alex felt a strange surge of nostalgic longing; coffee was normal. It had made them feel grown up as little girls, though it had been little more than cream and sugar with a few drops of coffee added; over time it had become a private joke as they progressively added more coffee to the mixture. It was a time just for them to take a break from studying; they would talk and gossip about their classmates, or the other people in the Vault. As much as she wanted a bit of that normalcy, Alex wasn't even sure what she would say anymore. None-the-less, she found herself nodding, and they walked in amicable silence to her home.

Alex noted immediately that her father wasn't there yet, so she set down her backpack and went to their small kitchenette. She fiddled with the coffee-maker while her mind spun futilely in all directions. To her initial relief, Amata spoke first.

"How has work been?"

Alex almost groaned. Work was the _last_ thing she wanted to talk about with Amata, but she forced a smile as she turned around to answer.

"It's been rather dull. It seems no one is in a hurry to be my first customer."

Amata smiled sympathetically. "You'd never catch me getting one," she said, and then was quick to add, "Not that I don't trust your skills, but I feel queasy around lasers. I would hate to be disintegrated by one on accident."

"Oh, it's no where near powerful enough to do something like that," Alex said reassuringly. "You'd need to increase the energy output by at least three-hundred percent. And that would be good for all of one shot, draining the entire energy cell."

"So you've found sometime to take on another research project?" Amata asked, a faint smile around her lips.

Alex shrugged. "Not much else to do with the dearth of customers. I need some way of keeping myself busy, especially when the only other distraction is Butch."

"Does he work with you?" Amata asked with sudden concern. "I hope he doesn't give you a hard time."

"No, not really," Alex said. "We only share the same space, which isn't ideal, but we manage to make do. I guess the hair dresser and tattoo artist don't need their own work space."

A silence struck again at the end of this comment, and there was only the sound of the coffee brewing in the background; the scent was already permeating the kitchen, and Alex inhaled it deeply for several moments. At this point she probably would have told Amata about her 'pet project', but she found herself hesitating. Amata was technically her superior now, and what she was doing wasn't exactly within regulations. Unlike herself, who was wont to bend the rules when needed, Amata obeyed her father's law rigidly. It was possible that Alex's infraction on the rules would bother her friend, and while it might not seem like it at that very moment, Alex was very aware that the Overseer could make her life still more difficult. Her father had always told her how important it was that she always remain on the Overseer's good side, no matter what she thought of the man personally.

_BEEP_! _BEEP_!

Alex turned her back on Amata and turned off the coffee-maker, then poured them each a mug, choosing their favorite ones out of habit. After adding cream and sugar to them both, she placed Amata's on the small dining table before her, then took the only other chair, sitting herself on the opposite side.

"Have you been enjoying your job?" Alex asked, trying to remain pleasant.

"Yes, though it's been a lot more work than I thought it would be," Amata admitted. "Daddy wants me to learn everything there is to know about the Vault from Reactor Level to the front door... not that he's allowed me close to that yet. And he's started these nightly lectures at dinner, telling me what it means to be a leader within the Vault community. How it is my duty to set a higher standard of behavior for everyone to follow, stuff like that."

"He's probably just conditioning you to follow in his footsteps. Expects that you'll become Overseer when he's gone."

They should have laughed together at this point, but neither of them did. They had both planned to follow in their father's footsteps since childhood, but now it was difficult for Alex to relate; Amata was one step closer to achieving her dream, and that created its own wall between them. Alex spent another minute trying to cover her own discomfort by sipping at her coffee, which was still so hot that it burned her tongue.

"Why are you here?" Alex uttered impulsively. It wasn't a question she had wanted to ask, but it seemed as though it was just waiting to be spoken aloud. When she glanced up, she saw that Amata was stunned by the question.

"Why?" Amata asked. "You've been avoiding me for weeks. I know it hasn't been easy, and thought you needed space, but when I went to the Clinic –"

"My dad asked you to come?" Alex asked, suddenly angry, and not understanding exactly why.

"No, not like that –"

"Then what?" Alex asked, now glaring at her friend. "You felt sorry for him and asked if you could _help_?"

"No, I think he was worried about you, and thought you might need..."

"Need what?" Alex snapped when Amata trailed off. "Your pity?"

"Your best friend."

Alex stared at Amata for a few moments.

"Best friend..." she murmured. Then she looked down; her anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, but it left behind a small twinge in her heart. "Does it still feel like we're best friends?"

"What do you mean?" Amata asked.

It took Alex a moment to answer. "We're in such different places now," Alex explained. "Sure, we're still apart of the Vault, but you're moving on, you have no limit to what you can achieve, while I am... _stuck_."

That one word was saturated with all the bitterness and frustration Alex felt, and Amata flinched at the sound of it, though Alex did not see.

"That doesn't mean everything has to change."

"But it has." Alex fixed Amata with a hard stare. "We're trying to act like everything is normal, but it's not. You're going your own way. I have to make mine."

"Going separate ways?" Amata asked. "Alex, do you hear how that sounds? How far can we really go? We're always going to be right here."

Alex allowed herself a small smile at Amata's incredulity. "I think, for now at least, this is just the way it is."

Amata looked down, sadness obvious on her face, and then, quietly, she got up and left. As she reached the door, she called back, "If that's how it's got to be for you, fine, but you're still my best friend. I'll be right here when you need me."

And then she was gone.

Alex let out a long sigh, then got up to clean their coffee mugs. When she'd carefully dried them, she put them up on the highest shelf and pushed them back where she couldn't reach them.

Just as she was picking up her backpack from the floor of their small living room, the door opened again and her father entered. Immediately he looked toward her.

"Hi, Daddy," Alex said.

"Hi, sweetheart," James replied. "I just saw Amata on my way here. Did she come over?"

"Yes," Alex said. "She told me you thought she should come."

James smiled, looking pleased. "I didn't want to meddle, sweetheart, but I thought it might do you some good if you could talk to her."

"Yeah, it did," Alex said, unsure what even made her say it. "We talked, and I think I've got more of a handle on this, you know? I've got to make my own future with what I've got."

"That's the spirit, honey," James said, so happy he pulled her into a brief hug. When he let go, he held her away at arms' length. "I know I say it all the time, but your mother would be proud of you. There were many times where I was astonished by her strength. No matter how difficult life got, she always kept fighting. Nothing could beat her down."

Alex smiled. "I never knew her, but I think she and the Overseer didn't like each other either."

James chuckled. "No, your mother never had a taste for overbearing bullies. But she was a woman who could handle herself against anyone. You have that same strength." He let Alex go entirely, then said, "So, how about we go join your grandmother and Jonas down at the diner?"

Alex nodded emphatically. "Just let me put my backpack away," she said, pleased at the prospect of having dinner with her family. For a brief moment, she felt grateful for them, reassured in knowing they were still there. Even if things had changed between her and Amata, she wasn't completely alone.


	7. Baby Steps

Disclaimer: Still don't own Fallout.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! And to those who didn't, thank you for reading! I'm hoping as I get further into it I'll get more readers. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Things are starting to move along between Alex and Butch, slowly but surely! It's all in the anticipation ;) And BTW this will be a full LW story, not just about her life in the Vault. This'll go all the way from here to there... wherever "there" is... probably nowhere...

* * *

Chapter Seven

Baby Steps

When Butch DeLoria walked into work the next morning, his first impression was that the parlor looked different than the way he'd left it the day before. Glancing over to the unused tattoo station, he immediately noticed the front window was lined with paper, making it near impossible to see through. Taking a quick step back into the corridor, he was met with a solid wall of Alex's artwork. She had only chosen to display the best pictures, and there were several he had not seen before. One, he noticed, was an exact replica of the Tunnel Snake on his jacket. He had to admit, the work was excellent. He would have sworn she'd drawn it while looking at the one he had made on his jacket, but he'd likely have noticed her watching him so much.

After going back inside, he went straight into the back room where he found Alex, already hunched over her workbench as usual.

"I see you followed my advice," he said as a way of greeting, his tone typically arrogant.

"And I still haven't had a single customer," she retorted calmly. "Whether or not it works is still up for debate."

"But the point is you took it," Butch insisted. He saw Alex roll her eyes, but she had a small smile on her face, which was more than unusual, especially in his presence. He looked at her for a moment longer, then turned to retrieve the tools of his trade. As he reached for the top shelf where he stored them, however, he noticed a small pile of rations placed on the second shelf.

"What's this?" he asked.

Alex went completely silent for a moment, then said, "I didn't see you at breakfast, so I swiped some extra for you. Consider it payback for yesterday."

Butch was astonished, to say the least; he knew that he'd more than earned the perpetual cold shoulder she gave him, and he even relied on it, so he'd never expected anything like this from her. He glanced covertly in her direction and saw that she was hard at work, as always, but she seemed... happier.

"You really must be my best gal, to steal so willingly on my behalf," he said smugly, already tearing through the wrappers.

"Don't get full of yourself," Alex said repressively. "It's no more than what you would have gotten if you'd shown up at the diner yourself."

Butch only smirked at her, then made a show of enjoying the food she had pilfered for him.

By noon, Alex still had not had a single customer. Butch had overheard several comments by those who passed by, and while all of them praised her talents, none of them actually worked up the nerve to come inside the door.

"They're warming up to the idea," he said confidently.

"I doubt that," Alex replied, shaking her head. "Until at least one person takes the plunge, the rest aren't going to take a chance."

"If you want me to take the plunge first, that's all you gotta say."

Alex looked at him in disbelief, certain he was screwing with her. "Right. And what brought about this sudden gesture? You do understand I will be permanently _branding_ your skin, don't you?"

"Details, details," Butch said dismissively. "A Tunnel Snake ain't afraid of nothing. Now lets do this."

Alex followed after him, looking bewildered as he walked out into the parlor.

"Are you serious?" she asked, now nervous at the prospect.

"You're the brains, ain't ya?" Butch asked. "So how do we do this?"

"Well... first I need to know what you want, and where you want it."

"You draw a Tunnel Snake really good. Think you can do one o' them?"

"Yes, but where?" Alex asked. "Where do you think anyone would see it?"

Butch grinned. "Don't you worry about that, doll. By this time tomorrow, the whole Vault will know about it."

Deciding not to ask for details, Alex shrugged and turned back towards the workshop. "Fine, then, let me get my tools. Feel free to come to your senses while I'm gone."

As she gathered up the supplies she needed and went over the process in her mind, she found herself sincerely hoping he would back out. What if she made a mistake? She doubted somehow that he would be very forgiving about it.

When she returned to the parlor, however, he was sitting at her station, preening himself in front of the mirror, comb in hand.

"Ahem," she said, and Butch smirked at her reflection.

"Hey, I gotta make this look good," he said. "What if someone walks in here while I'm gettin' cut?"

Alex rolled her eyes and said, "Take your time. I still need to draw it first. Do you want the exact snake on your jacket?"

"If you think you can do it just as good," Butch said with a shrug.

Taking a seat at the slanted drawing table, Alex immediately began to draw, using the thin paper provided for her and sketching the basic outline of the snake with a pencil. She became so focused that it wasn't until she was drawing over it with an ink specially designed to remain wet that she became aware of Butch watching over her shoulder.

"That's not half bad," he said before she could even speak.

There was nothing at all wrong with the words, but the low, soft tone of his voice so close to her ear made her heart pick up an odd rhythm, and she found she had to look away before she could speak. "I just need a few more minutes. Wherever you want this, start dressing down so I can get to it."

"Hmm," Butch said, inferring the promise of mischief in that one sound. "I hadn't thought about just where I want it. Where would you put it?"

"Butch DeLoria, asking for my expertise?" Alex said dryly while evading his question. "Just what is the world coming to?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Butch said, shrugging and taking a step back. "I'll decide then."

Alex could only hear silence behind her for a few minutes while she finished the design, and then there was a rustle of clothing. She didn't think anything of it at all until she turned around to see Butch sitting on the end of the thin, padded table, completely naked to the waist. As a former student of anatomy and medicine, Alex was not unfamiliar with what was under a man's clothing, but there was a marked difference between a flat, one-dimensional drawing or Freddie Gomez's gangling frame and the solid, broad, well-defined torso that now sat shamelessly before her.

"Look as much as you like, baby," Butch said, displaying like a peacock. "This is the best view you'll ever see."

Alex could feel her face instantly burning hot, and she quickly looked away and pretending to check over her tools while she gathered her composure. "So, you want this on your chest?"

"My back," Butch replied, and she could almost hear him laughing at her. "But feel free to touch me wherever you want."

Gritting her teeth in irritation, Alex took herself firmly in hand and turned to face her first client with all the cold professionalism of a doctor about to perform a complete physical. "Then turn around and face your back to me," she said cooly. The Tunnel Snake only smiled and presented her with his broad back.

Alex did everything in her power to remain impersonal as she cleaned the expanse of skin between his shoulder-blades with antiseptic, but she found herself repeatedly distracted by the warmth emanating off him. For a moment she found herself wondering if the cold of the Vault simply didn't effect him, but then the heat seeped into her through her fingertips when she accidentally touched his bare skin, and she quickly pulled her hand away.

She placed the design against his skin ink-side down, and when she pulled it away, it left a perfect imprint for her to follow. _This won_'_t be so bad_, she promised herself. _You know what to do_._ It_'_s just like working in the lab_._ Steady hands get the job done right_. Despite her self-reassurances, by the time she had loaded the tattoo gun with an energy cell and double-checked the power settings, her stomach felt distinctly queasy.

"You're _sure_ you want to do this?" she asked, her voice a little higher than normal.

"Just get it done, will ya?" Butch said impatiently.

To achieve a high enough angle, Alex was forced to kneel behind him on the padded bench, and as she placed the tip of the gun in position, she said, "Now, I don't know what this is going to feel like. It _should_ feel a little hot, but not searing, and if burns too much –"

"Come on, quit stalling," he said. "Whatever it does, I can take it."

"Yeah, right, cause you're the big, bad Serpent King," Alex mocked humorlessly, then, after taking a deep breath, she activated the laser and made her first mark along the outline of the Tunnel Snake.

* * *

Over an hour later, Butch was admiring the intricately designed Tunnel Snake now branded permanently into his skin.

"Damn, baby, that's one bad ass tat," he said appreciatively. The area felt like tenderized meat that had been left on a stove burner to slowly cook for over an hour, but he'd never let on; the amazing detail was more than worth the discomfort. Alex would never even have known he'd felt a thing if it hadn't been for the muscles that would occasionally tauten under her hand.

"That's going to be tender for a few days," she said. "Just don't spend too much time on your back and you should be just fine."

"Yeah, yeah," Butch said, obviously not paying attention. "Just wait til everyone sees this. You'll have customers beating down the door to get one."

"I shudder to envision the circumstances under which 'everyone' will see you half-naked."

"Not just half, baby girl, I go all the way" Butch said, winking at her in the mirror. "And maybe not _everyone_ exactly, but enough that everyone will know."

Alex rolled her eyes, then began cleaning up her workstation. "I'm just relieved it came out so well," she said earnestly, "especially with my reputation on the line."

"Don't you worry about that, you were born to do this."

Alex winced, and was happy that he couldn't see her face. "Somehow, that's not a lot of consolation." Then, realizing what she'd said and to whom, she quickly faced him with a ready smile. "I'm really glad you like it. If you decide that you want any more, don't hesitate to ask."

Butch didn't smile back at her immediately, but quickly covered the lapse with a cocky grin. "Just can't wait to get closer to me again, can ya?"

Again, Alex rolled her eyes, then ignored him as she gathered her tools together and brought them back with her into the workshop.

"Ya know," Butch suddenly said from the open doorway, "the diner closes soon. If we go now, we could still get something."

"You go on," Alex said absently, already riffling through her notes. "I've got work to do here."

Butch was silent for a moment, but then he shrugged. "Whatever." And then he walked off without another word.

Alex was struck speechless when, twenty minutes later, a pile of rations were slid onto the workbench in front of her. Butch gave no explanation, but simply walked away.

"What's this?" she asked.

"What's it look like?" Butch replied.

Alex gave him a curious look, then said, "Not that I don't appreciate it, but... well, there's no real reason for you to bring me food. It's not like we're – well... _friends_, or anything like that."

"Yeah, well, so what?" he said shortly. "Are you gonna eat it or give me the third-degree all day?"

Alex's expression was nothing short of shocked. Not knowing what else to say, she put her tools down and went to the utility sink to wash her hands.

For a full five minutes, she sat eating in silence, occasionally shooting him more curious glances, but he offered no explanation for his oddly humane behavior, and so the afternoon passed on in silence.

At the end of the day, she began to close up shop first, something that did not go unnoticed by the Tunnel Snake. He followed her lead, cleaning his tools and putting them away. By the time six o'clock rolled around, they were both standing awkwardly at the threshold of the door, Alex offered him a small smile. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She started to walk away down the corridor that would take her straight home, but before she made it two steps, she heard Butch say, "Maybe we're not friends, but still, you're not so bad... for a Daddy's Girl."

Alex glanced back at him over her shoulder, but he was already walking away, his step as cocksure as ever.

"Thanks... I guess," she said, and a slight slowing in his stride was the only indication that he'd heard her.

A vague smile on her lips, Alex turned toward home.

* * *

That evening in the diner, Alex ate with her little family as she always did. Her dad sat beside her, and Jonas sat directly across from her, beside their grandmother. Looking at him for the first time in several days, she wondered if what Butch had said was true, about Jonas and Mrs. DeLoria. She had never had such thoughts about her older cousin, but she couldn't help wondering... Of course, she'd never ask him about it. He'd likely be embarrassed beyond reason, and she had no desire to initiate such an uncomfortable conversation.

While she didn't talk overly much or make effort to join in the conversation, she did listen attentively, unaware of the small smile that still lingered on her lips. This did not, however, go unnoticed by James, who was deeply relieved to see his daughter starting to look happy again. It seemed that talking to Amata had helped her just as he had hoped. When there was a brief lull in the conversation, he turned to her and said, "Do you have plans with Amata after dinner, or do you intend to work the night away again?"

Alex looked up a her father in surprise, but before she could ask what he was talking about, her grandmother looked at her with a smile and said, "Oh, I was so worried about that, I'll have you know. You two have been best friends since you were babies; it must have been hard on you both, not speaking like you were."

Alex stared at them both, suddenly realizing that she had never exactly explained to her father what she and Amata had talked about. Both he and her grandmother were smiling at her with obvious joy and relief on their faces, and for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to disappoint them.

"Ye-yeah, that's right," she said, the lie stuttering awkwardly through her lips. "I told her I'd come over to her place after dinner."

"That's great, sweetheart," James said enthusiastically. "Jonas and I've got to work late in the Clinic tonight anyway, so don't hurry home."

"I won't," Alex said, then she glanced around the diner. "I think she's already left. I'll just head over there now."

"Have fun, honey," James said happily, and Alex stood and left the diner. She did not, however, head in the direction of the Overseer's apartments, but towards her own on the opposite end of the Vault.

As she walked, Alex found herself pondering this unexpected predicament and the repercussions of what she'd just done. Now that her family thought she had reconciled with Amata, she couldn't very well hang around her room all evening. If her dad came home, he would know she had lied, and even though she had never needed to lie to him before, she didn't want him to know the truth. Not if it made him happy to think she was happy.

By the time she reached her room, she had already decided what she would do with her sudden free time. It had been a while since she'd taken a trip down to the Reactor Level. The place would be deserted by now, with everyone at the diner or settling in for the evening. It was high time to get in a little target practice.

* * *

Butch DeLoria needed a smoke. After a long two hours of making Wally's little sister squeal beneath him, he felt relaxed and content, and exceptionally pleased with himself. Every time he nailed that stuck-up little bitch behind her brother's back, he felt an immense satisfaction beyond simple gratification. That idiot actually thought _he_ was the leader of this gang. One of these days he'd have to put him in his place once and for all, but for the moment Butch was content to thumb his nose at the bastard while he plowed his sister.

But right now, he needed a smoke, and while he might be cocky enough to smoke at work, he was smart enough not to smoke out in the open. His feet automatically began to carry him deeper into the Vault, with it's many abandoned areas. He had thought he was heading straight to one of his usual hideouts, but when he next became aware of his surroundings, he was in a dark corridor, at the top of an equally dark stairwell. Taking a quick glance around to assert himself, he realized he was headed down to the Reactor Level. Well, he'd been looking for someplace remote. He hadn't been down there since that run-in with Alex, and he vaguely found himself wondering if she was down there now.

Shrugging his shoulders, he set his course and confidently strutted down the steps. Seconds later, he was pulling the heavy door of the storage room open, and the moment there was space between the soundproof steel, a strange clash and the creaking of metal met his ears. Curious, he opened the door until he could slip quietly inside, then pushed it shut while he took in the scene before him.

Alex was indeed here, and from what he could tell, she came here often. She had her back to him, and in front of her were three metal targets on hinges. In her hands was toy BB gun, and she shot each target in turn. They spun around on their hinges when hit, creaking in a way that made his hair stand on end.

Alex did not even notice his presence; she continued to shoot her targets, never missing one even as her pace increased. Finally, when she went to squeeze the trigger again, there was nothing but a resounding _click_, and only then did she lower the weapon.

"I'd never have pegged you as handy with a gun."

Alex's heart jumped frantically inside her chest at the sound of a voice behind her, and she spun around to see Butch leaning against the door and grinning at her. Realizing she still held the BB gun in her hand, she made to hide it behind her back, but stopped almost immediately, knowing it was already too late.

The movement was not missed by Butch, who had the audacity to laugh at her.

"So, the cat's out of the bag," he said gleefully. "Little Miss Daddy's Girl caught out-of-bounds, violating curfew, and in possession of a banned firearm."

"So, what of it? Planning on turning me in?" Alex asked scornfully. "Considering how the Overseer feels about me, there just might be a reward in it for you."

"Tempting... very tempting..." Butch said thoughtfully. "On the other hand, you could entice me with greater reward in return for me keeping this our little secret."

Alex frowned at him. "How do I know you'd keep your word?"

The Tunnel Snake gave her a serpent's smile. "You don't. It's not like we're friends, remember?"

Alex considered his answer. She didn't trust him. This could in no way end well for her, but then, what choice did she have? Her heart pounded unpleasantly at the thought of her BB gun being taken from her; it was one of her most prized possessions, and that was exactly what would happen if Butch breathed a word to the Overseer.

"What do you want?"

"Letting me try it out would be a good start," Butch said hopefully.

Alex looked surprised, but then shrugged and offered it to him. When he took it, she picked up the tin and went about collecting the small BBs. "So if I let you shoot a few rounds, you'll go away satisfied?"

"I said it's a start," he qualified.

"And what's the finale?" Alex asked suspiciously, now handing him the tin.

"Don't want to ruin the surprise for you."

Alex scowled, then walked away to perch herself on the edge of a storage crate. Despite her sense of dread, she couldn't miss the change in the atmosphere between them, especially when she remembered the last time he'd found her down here. Then again, they'd been alone in that parlor together day-in and day-out for a month; maybe it was only natural that she grew more comfortable in his presence. Even now, despite her predicament, she felt no threat to herself. If the nonchalant way he loaded the BB gun and lined up his first shot were any indication, his only objective was to play with her toy gun.

His first shot went wide, hitting the wall behind the target some five feet to the left, and Alex let out an audible snort that echoed around the steel room. Butch glared back her, and she crossed her legs, smiling innocently.

As he posed to line up his next shot, she called out, "Try looking down the sight. Always helps me."

He shot her another glare, but did as she said, and the next shot hit the target squarely in the center and sent it spinning and creaking.

"Whoo! Now that's how the Butch-man does it!" he said, smirking at his own handiwork. Alex tried not to smile, and maintained an impassive expression as he went through her supply of BBs. She had to admit, at least to herself, that he was fairly good, though he missed more and more as he got cocky and attempted several trick-shots from odd angles.

"Not too bad," Alex said when the last BB clattered across the floor. She hopped down from her perch and began collecting them again. "A few more years of practice and you might get good at it."

Butch laughed and looked appreciatively at the gun in his hand. "Where'd you get this anyway?"

"It was a gift," Alex said, shrugging as she left out the details. "I've had it for a few years. But still, it's only a toy."

"Yeah, and that's why you keep it hidden, only coming down here to play with it at night?" he asked. "Does Daddy even know?"

Alex bristled. "As a matter of fact, yes, he does. He found it, repaired it, and gave it to me for my tenth birthday. He even set up these targets for me. So don't get to thinking this will ruin my 'Daddy's Girl' cred. I made good and sure I had his permission to go about breaking the rules."

Butch grinned and shook his head. "I should've known," he said. "Only you could remain good while being bad."

Alex gave him a smug smile and watched without comment as he shot through the tin again.

As the last BB was shot, Alex checked the time on her Pip-Boy. "I should go home."

"I thought Daddy knew his little girl was down here?" Butch asked archly.

"Well... not exactly," Alex muttered. When Butch looked at her expectantly, she grudgingly elaborated. "He thinks I'm with Amata."

"Ah," Butch said, "I was thinking something mighta gone down after – so why are you here and not with her?"

Alex tried to shrug and avoid the question, but the he held his ground, and she said, as carelessly as she could, "If it makes my dad happy to think Amata and I are best friends again, I see no reason to disillusion him." That said, she took her BB gun back from him and started taking it apart.

"So what's the plan?" he asked. "Come down here every time he thinks you're off with your nerd-pal?"

"Maybe not every time, though I don't have anyplace better on my list yet," Alex said. "But that's the general idea. Find ways to keep busy."

"Then why the rush to get back?" Butch asked casually, now leaning against the wall. While he watched her scramble for an answer, he took out a pack of smokes from inside his jacket and lit one up. "You're already out," he said when no answer was forthcoming. "Might as well stay out."

Alex his the last piece of the BB gun inside the lining of her sleeve, then fixed him with a bemused look. "And do what, exactly?"

The Serpent King smiled voraciously at her, and Alex took an immediate step back. "I don't think so," she said quickly, crossing her arms in front of her.

Butch chuckled. "Relax, baby, I'm just playin' with you."

Alex watched him take another drag from his cigarette, momentarily distracted by the brightly burning ember.

"Want one?" he offered, his smile telling her already knew her answer.

"I'll pass," she said, feeling no regret in confirming his thoughts about her. Even if she wasn't a practicing doctor, she wasn't giving up her standards for maintaining good health. "I'm rather fond of my lungs." And then she walked away to collect the BBs once more and store them in the tin.

"What, no lecture about how smoking bad for me and all that?" he asked.

Alex shrugged. "Well, it _really_ isn't good for you, but I expect you already know that." She shook her head. "It's your life."

Butch allowed his surprise to show momentarily on his face, then grinned. "I'm almost disappointed." He saw her smile in response, but she made no reply as she counted the BBs and hunted down the last missing few. Then she pushed the targets against the back wall and behind a tall stack of storage crates.

When she slung her pack over her shoulder, he gave her another mocking smile. "Yeah, I know, gotta run back to Daddy. Don't get caught out by patrol."

Alex smiled sweetly. "Hasn't happened yet."

And she walked away without a backward glance.

Butch swore when she was finally gone. _Great_._ Mission accomplished_. _That_'_s Butch_,_ lady_'_s man extraordinaire_.

Any other broad in this hole would have stayed, or at least flirted to encourage him to give chase. She just... smiled and left. Scowling, Butch took one last drag before snuffing out the cherry. That's what he got for sniffing after a goody-two-shoes like that.

And then, a diabolical thought occurred to him. Smiling in a way that could mean nothing good, Butch left the Reactor Level and headed back the way he'd come, a plan already taking form in his head even as he moved on to the next name on his roster for the evening.


	8. Nighttime Frolics

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3.

Author's Note: Once again, I find myself apologizing for the lateness of my updating. Writing has fallen to the wayside over this past month. During the first week of October I was taken to the ER twice because I was having trouble with my heart. I still am, but I've finally found a place who will actually take the time to figure out what is wrong with me even though I don't have health insurance or the money to pay for their services. I was scared senseless for a while there, mostly because I just don't know what is wrong with me, but now that I'm calming a bit, writing is making its way back into the picture. Thank you very much for your patience, and I anticipate any feedback I might receive on this overdue chapter.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Nighttime Frolics

To Alex's utter astonishment, Butch had been right. By the time the afternoon hours had rolled around, no less than six potential customers had dropped by the salon, including Tom Holden and his sister Mary, Christine Kendall, Freddie and his dad, and Susie Mack's mother. Not all of them had the nerve to go through with it and claimed they needed a few days to think it over, but Officer Gomez and Mrs. Mack had more guts than most and went under the laser unflinchingly; by the time she closed up shop, she was optimistic about word spreading around the rest of the Vault.

"Admit it. I was right."

Alex couldn't resist the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips as she returned her tools to their rightful places. "Why should I do that when you've admitted it enough for the both of us?"

"Because I might never get the chance to hear it again," he said logically.

"True," Alex conceded, now standing on the tips of her toes to return a box of tattoo paper to the top shelf. "Chances of you being right again are slim to none." She was ready to step up onto the bottom shelf and hoist herself up when she felt a solid, warm mass against her back. A pair of large hands took the box from her and placed it effortlessly on the top shelf. Swallowing hard, she turned slowly on the spot until her back was to the shelves; Butch DeLoria stood only inches away from her. Even without touching him, she could feel the heat that seemed to radiate from him. It seeped through the thick fabric of her Vault suit and under her skin, and for one insane moment, she imagined the small space between them disappearing, until she could feel his hard chest against her again, until his heat drove away the cold that permeated their steel confines. Then sanity prevailed, taking abrupt hold of her, and she steered her thoughts away from the impulse. Instead she forced herself to look up into his eyes, and saw him smiling down at her as though he knew her thoughts.

"So you're saying I _am_ right?" he asked, and it took her a moment to remember what they had been discussing.

"Half-right," she amended. "While they aren't breaking down the door for my services, at least they're coming inside."

The Serpent King smiled in a satisfied way and walked away without another word.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief and immediately regretted it as Butch shot another cocky smirk in her direction. Feigning indifference, Alex resumed the tidying of her workstation, and at six o'clock they were both prepared to depart. As Alex made her first step toward the door, she suddenly felt his body brush close by hers, and on instinct, she stiffened defensively, but he merely walked on past her as though the encounter were of no consequence, giving her a brief wave as he walked away.

Alex stood there like a simpleton, watching him until he rounded a corner and disappeared, before she came to her senses and set a course for home.

What had _that_ been about? Setting aside their hostile history, and taking into account their recent, ambiguous truce, Butch didn't typically cross into the boundary she'd set between them their first day on the job. Had it been intentional, or coincidence? Was she overreacting? Why did she even care?

But the time she reached home, Alex had decided it probably didn't mean anything, and besides, she had other things to think about.

A few days later, she wasn't so sure anymore. It seemed like at any random opportunity Butch was right there, helping her reach something on the top shelf, brushing close to her when they were forced to pass each other in their confining workspace, or lightly brushing his fingers over her hand in ways that just as easily could have been on accident. Each time her heart would quicken inside her, and slowly as warmth began to spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat that emanated from him. By the following week she found herself looking forward to the time they spent together in that tiny workshop. Over and over she reminded herself she was being an idiot. The Serpent King never said anything to indicate these encounters were anything more than coincidence, and even if they were, the idea of them as anything more than somewhat friendly acquaintances was completely absurd.

In an attempt to reassert herself, she focused more in her work, of which there was now plenty. As more people overcame their squeamishness about going under a laser, others who were less daring began to follow suit, and before long she was booking appointments at least a week in advance.

"Admit it, I'm a genius," Butch said one evening as her last customer departed.

Alex chuckled. "I think 'genius' is a bit of a stretch." The Tunnel Snake grinned lazily at her, and not for the first time, Alex was struck by the ease with which they could now talk, and even occasionally tease each other.

"I think 'genius' fits perfect," he insisted, now following her back into the workshop. "All it took was one word from the Butch-man and now you've got more clients than you can handle. I think that deserves some kind of compensation."

"Compensation, huh?" she said, only half-listening as she started to clear away her things. "Like what?"

"Well, I thinking –"

"A marvel, that," Alex quipped.

Butch scowled, but pressed on. "As much as I enjoyed playing with your little toy the other night, I was _thinking_ it would be a lot more fun practicing with that super-laser."

Alex frowned. "It probably would be, but it's not finished yet."

"What's the hold up?" Butch asked impatiently. "You've been at that thing during every free moment for weeks."

Alex hesitated, but then decided no harm could come from telling him. "I'm having trouble with the wiring," she admitted wearily. "The replacement Tesla cables provided to me are nowhere near powerful enough to handle the kind of energy passing through them when an entire energy cell is discharged at once. I've tried making my own, but these flimsy things don't cut it. They overload and end up as a melted mess of wire and rubber every time."

"So you need something more heavy-duty. Is that all?"

"Yes," Alex said, but then she turned to face him, looking at him suspiciously. "Why? Got a stash of Tesla cables hidden away that no one knows about?"

"Well... in a manner of speaking," he said shiftily, but then his lips curved into a mischievous grin. "You wouldn't happen to have plans with your friend Amata tonight, would you?"

"I could," Alex said uncertainly. "Why?"

"You'll see," Butch said cryptically. "I'll come find you after curfew, once everything has settled down."

Alex gave him a curious look, but before she could ask anything more, another customer entered the parlor and the conversation was forced to a halt.

That evening as Alex ate dinner with her family, she found herself contemplating her plans for the evening. While agreeing to meet up with Butch DeLoria after curfew offended reason, she found herself even more bothered by the notion that she would lying to her father once again. While at the time it hadn't seemed quite so bad to let him believe something that made him happy, this time she would be outright lying to his face, and the prospect made her stomach queasy until she found she had a hard time swallowing her food. More than once, she considered changing her mind altogether, but then the prospect of possibly getting the proper supplies for her experiments flashed through her mind, and her hesitation was replaced with a mix of resolve and excitement.

This inner tug-of-war went back and forth throughout the meal while Alex waited for Amata to leave with her father. Fortunately, they did not linger in the diner, and after they had taken their leave, Alex lowered her voice so as not to be overheard.

"I was thinking might visit with Amata after dinner. You don't mind, do you, Daddy?"

"Of course not, sweetheart," he said happily, and Alex was relieved by his ready acceptance of her lie. "I've always got work to do in the clinic. Go have fun."

"I'll try not to be out too late," Alex added, knowing that he would encourage her 'not to hurry home'. After allowing him to give her a brief peck on the top of her head, she casually left the diner. She caught a glimpse of Butch as she went, sitting with his gang and laughing rancorously at what was likely some crude story or joke, but she didn't dare call out any type of greeting or acknowledge him in any way. Likewise, he completely ignored her existence, so she left the diner and took the longest route home. Once there, she locked herself away in her room and began to rummage through her backpack, pulling out the cases and parts she often hauled back and forth between work and home until she found what she needed: a small box of replacement cables that was already half-empty thanks to her experiments. She hoped she wouldn't need to use anymore of them after tonight; that would mean filling out a requisition form to acquire more, and that could draw unwanted attention to what she was doing.

After pocketing the small box, she spent another hour checking and rechecking her calculations. She needed to make absolutely certain whatever cables Butch obtained for her could handle the high energy output emitted by a single energy cell, or else their efforts and materiels would be entirely wasted.

Twenty minutes before curfew, she packed her notes and made her way down to the storage room in the Reactor Level, and was grateful not to meet anyone along the way.

And there she waited. Each minute felt like an hour as she repeatedly checked the time on her Pip-Boy. _Nine-fifty_... _ten o_'_five_... every time she thought she heard a noise her heard pounded wildly, then the silence pervaded again and her pulse would slow once more... _A quarter after ten_..._ ten twenty_... Would he even show? Perhaps she ought to have brought a comic book to read... _ten-fifty-eight_... Alex was starting to consider that she might be better of returning home when the door to the storage room swung open and Butch DeLoria slipped inside.

"About time," Alex said impatiently as soon as the heavy steel door was closed behind him. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

"Don't you worry, baby girl, the Butch-man never disappoints, and I make it well worth the wait."

Alex glared at him, but the effect was completely ruined by the smirk on her lips. Then something drew her eye. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the pack slung over his shoulder.

"Disguise," he said simply.

"A disguise?" she asked, baffled. "Just where exactly are we going?"

"Shhh, all in good time," he said, slinging the pack off his shoulder and opening the clasp. From within he extracted what at first glance looked like an ordinary Vault suit. "Here, put this on," he said, tossing it to her.

"What is it?" she asked, unfolding it and holding it out before her. It looked to be roughly her size, but different from the standard issue. The sleeves were cuffed at the elbow, and the sash at the shoulder was missing. It was also rather grubby looking, as though it had already seen much use; there were several dark stains and it smelled unpleasantly of grease.

"Utility suit," he said, engrossed in pulling more odds and ends out of the pack, including a red baseball cap, a small can of hair-spray, and a round hairbrush.

"It looks like it'd already fit me. Whose is it?"

"Christie's," he answered carelessly.

Alex felt her blood turn cold, and as she looked from the suit to the hat to the array of hair products lined up on the edge of a storage crate, it dawned on her. "No way!" she said, vigorously throwing the suit back to him. "I'm not wearing her clothes and masquerading around as her! How did you even get this?"

His devilish smile provided a better answer than words ever could, and her face flamed scarlet. "This is not going to happen," she said stubbornly. "You know what, just forget the whole thing." She walked around him, ready to call it a night and go home, but Butch grabbed her by the elbow.

"It won't be so bad," he said placatingly. "I've been thinking and this is the best way. Christine works in the maintenance department, and I have her access card. All you have to do is wear the suit. I'll do you hair, and the cap will hide your face. It'll work, I promise."

Alex glared at him skeptically. "And what about you?" she said in askance.

Butch shrugged. "A Tunnel Snake goes wherever he wants."

"Ah yes, how silly of me," she said scathingly. "You own this Vault."

"And don't you forget it," he said, but there was a teasing glint in his eye that somewhat mollified her.

"Fine," she said, grabbing the utility suit out of his hand. "But you're not cutting my hair."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, relinquishing her elbow.

"Just wait here," she said, then walked away toward the back of the storage room. "And don't even think of looking!"

"I would dream about that," Butch replied thoughtfully, but Alex only shook her head in dismay and kept walking. Sequestered behind two storage crates stacked on top of each other, she quickly stripped off her own Vault suit and pulled on Christine's work uniform. It fit her well enough even if it was a little loose around the waist and a few inches too long in the legs, but it galled her to have to wear _that_ _floozy_'_s_ clothes, especially knowing how the Tunnel Snake had procured them.

"Are you done yet?"

"Yes!" Alex called out hastily, zipping up the front of the utility suit up to her throat and collecting her own jumpsuit before emerging from behind the storage crates.

"Come stand right here and turn around," Butch said, gesturing to the center of the room where there was the most light. Alex went willingly enough, but when she felt him take up his position directly behind her, she fidgeted uncomfortably. "Stop squirming," he said, tugging gently on a lock of her hair. "It'll all be over in a minute and we can get outta here."

Alex sighed dramatically, but then closed her eyes and held perfectly still. The first tug of the brush through her hair sent a faint shiver down her spine, and not for the first time, she was struck by the surreal quality her life had taken. In what world would she be lying to her father to sneak out of bounds after curfew with a Tunnel Snake and let him doll her up to look like Christine Kendall? But then, in what world could she ever have expected to become a tattoo artist with a clandestine passion for laser weapons? In what world could she confide in Butch and not Amata?

Apparently, it was this one. Suddenly, she was reminded of an old story her father had told her as a child, of a little girl who fell down a rabbit hole into a place called 'Wonderland', where nothing was the way it was supposed to be. It had always sounded so exciting to her, and she had spent many hours of pretend as the little girl from the story who had climbed out through the rabbit hole and into some other world beyond the Vault... She hadn't had cause to think of that tale in years, but somehow she seemed to have fallen into another reality where nothing was as it should be...

"Perfect."

Alex's eyes snapped open just as Butch was securing the red baseball cap on her head. Curious, she lifted her hands to her hair. It hung to her shoulders in perfect waves exactly like Christine's, but she could feel several layers of it overlapping the top of her head. Several bobby pins dug into her scalp, and the cap felt a little snug, but from what she could feel, she was the image of Christine.

"Impressive," she said, patting the waves self-consciously. "So, do I look exactly like a strumpet?"

Butch looked her over pensively. "Almost. You're missing something... Ah, allow me –" And without warning, Butch grabbed the zipper that she'd pulled up to her throat and slid it down between her breasts, leaving a great deal of her chest exposed. "Now that's more like it."

Alex glared up at him. "Hardly the words that come to mind, but it'll have to do I guess." She curved the bill of her cap so it would conceal her face and said, "So, what's the plan? Where's this stash of cables?"

"Girl, where I'm about to take you is worth more than anything in this entire Vault," he said with some flourish. "It's a gamble even showing it to you, but given you're up to your pretty neck in prohibited weapon-manufacturing –"

"I'm not a rat," Alex said, cutting him off. "So where are we going?"

"For me to know, baby," he said mysteriously. "There'll be camera's along the way, but just keep your head down a bit and we'll be fine." And with that he pulled the heavy steel door open again. Alex followed him stealthily back up the stairs. The hall lights had long since dimmed to simulate night time, and they were able to slip along the corridors under the cover of near-darkness, avoiding patrols and several security cameras along the way.

"Swing your hips a bit when you walk," he murmured to her as they passed the first security camera. "Think like Christie."

"So don't think at all?" Alex asked heatedly, but she did her best, swaying her hips from side-to-side as they went.

"Better," he said, leading the way toward the Atrium, and Alex followed his every move as they slipped through the shadows. In the Atrium, Butch lead her to a door that Alex had never passed through before. It was directly under the Overseer's office; she could see the circular window that overlooked the currently deserted Atrium, and dreaded that any moment the Overseer's face would appear in it, his sharp, cold eyes cutting through the darkness to catch them in their act of insubordination. They made it to the door without incident, though, where Butch took an access card from inside his leather jacket and swiped it through the slot to the side of the door. It obligingly slid open, and they entered a long hallway that was so dim Alex could barely see where they were going. Butch led her along by the elbow, and on the other end he unlocked another door, where they found themselves in a room with three more doors, one on each wall. They were all heavy, bulkhead doors akin to the ones on the reactor level, and Butch lead her to the one on the right. There was another card slot here, and after swiping the card again, Butch pulled the heavy door open and ushered Alex inside.

The room was completely dark, and when she heard the door close behind her, Alex felt a moment of panic. She dared not move lest she stumble into something, and for the first time she began to consider that Butch might be leading her on.

"What is this place?" she whispered, but in the utter silence, the words were as loud as if she had yelled them. The sound seemed to echo oddly too, as though they were in a long, insulated corridor.

"Behold, and be amazed," she heard Butch say from her left, and then she was blinded by the dazzling Vault lights. Blinking rapidly, she squinted around to see where she was.

They were in a rather long, spacious room filled with enormous storage crates and rows upon rows of storage shelves. The shelves were packed with countless metal boxes, each one labeled on the front.

"Where are we?" she asked, approaching the nearest shelf cautiously.

"Baby, this is where you can find anything you could ever need, anything ever supplied or manufactured by Vault-Tec," he said impressively, leaning casually against the wall. "I guess it's what they use to keep this place running for so long. I always figured there had to be a stash of this stuff – replacement parts have to come from somewhere, right? – and eventually I came across this."

"This is incredible," Alex said in awe. Then, more uncertainly, "Won't it be noticed if I take something?"

Butch shrugged. "Even if it is, who would suspect _you_?"

Alex knew he was only teasing her, but she answered anyway. "I don't know, the Overseer, maybe?"

From the corner of her eye she saw Butch watching her every move as she browsed the shelves. "He hates my dad," she went on unnecessarily. "He might just blame it on me for that reason alone."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Besides, you're charging it all to Christine's name, aren't ya? Just take whatever you want."

Alex gave him a withering look. "And get your girl in trouble for larcenous activities?"

Butch gave a noncommittal shrug and did not answer. Alex shook her head, but didn't waste anymore time bantering. It took her a full ten minutes to find a supply box of Tesla cables, and then to find large enough ones with the proper sized attachments. She grabbed a few extra for good measure, and as an afterthought, found the box of cables that she used for work and refilled the box she carried in her pocket. Having gotten what she came for, she took a look around the room. "D'you think there's time to look around?"

She heard Butch lighting a cigarette in answer.

The Serpent King idly smoked as he watched her flit from shelf to shelf, opening crates and boxes. He saw her stock up on several energy cells and other assorted contraband. Just as he put out his smoke and was about to suggest they leave, he heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Reacting quickly, he switched off the lights.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Shhh!" he hissed, turning on the light of his Pip-Boy. "Someone's coming. Quickly, towards the back."

She paled under the faint light, but did as he said, Butch just a step behind her. They moved as quietly as they could, but already they could hear the shuffling of feet just outside the room and the metallic _beep_ of a card being swiped to unlock the door.

"Back here," he hissed, and taking her by the elbow, he dragged her behind a tall metal tool cabinet. He followed behind her just as the door opened, accidentally crushing her between the wall and his chest.

"Watch it," he heard her start to say, but Butch could hear the door being pulled open, with some difficultly by the intruder, so he clapped his hand over her mouth to silence her, turning off his Pip-Boy light with his other hand.

Alex had enough sense not to struggle now that she could see the faint light coming from the open doorway. She was pinned to the wall with her breasts crushed against Butch's chest and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her from moving in any direction. They were so close she could feel his breath caressing her face and smell the cologne that always seemed to hover in their workshop. Then there was the sound of the door closing and the echo of footsteps, and her heart pounded even harder with the fear of discovery.

Whoever was in the room did not turn on the lights; instead, she heard the sound of a Pip-Boy light being switched on, and then the sound of footsteps again, which slowly but surely came closer and closer to their hiding place. She squirmed nervously, certain they were going to be discovered at any moment, and she felt Butch nearly flatten her against the wall to stop her moving. Instinctively she gasped for air, and to her horror, the sound traveled between Butch's fingers, still clasped over her mouth, and echoed dismally around the room.

Butch groaned in response as a male voice called out, "Who's there?"

Alex recognized the voice immediately: it was Stanley! He would find them here, and he would tell her father... it was an unqualified disaster! Just when she was trying to think of any excuse or plea that might keep him from telling anyone, the Tunnel Snake removed his hand from her mouth and slid it around the back of her neck, and then, without warning or reason, his lips crashed aggressively against hers. She gasped again and tried to push him away, but he took advantage and thrust his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. _What is he thinking_! _Stanley will find us like this and then what_?

But he didn't stop there. His hand slid down the curve of her hip and pulled her leg up and around him. Desperately, she wrenched her lips away from his, but he was not deterred in the least; he kissed his way down her throat and along her expose collarbone, but by now there was already a bright light illuminating their hiding place and they heard Stanley say, "Shoulda known."

Only then did Butch stop and look up at the intruder. "Gotta a problem, old man?"

Alex, who was looking the other way, heard Stanley reply, "Shoulda figured it was you two. Ya know Christine, you're really not supposed to be here without my authorization."

"S-sorry, Stanley," Alex said, and in her nervousness, her voice took on a higher pitch exactly matching the woman she was impersonating.

"Don't worry about it, kids are kids," Stanley said dismissively. "I won't say anything, but you should clear outta here before anyone else comes along."

"We'll do that," Alex replied.

And the light was gone. They heard Stanley walk away, quickly rummage through a metal box, and then he was gone from the storage room and the only sound echoing through the room was their heavy breathing.

"Well, wasn't that exciting," Butch murmured raggedly against her skin.

"That was _close_," Alex whispered, dragging air into her lungs. "I really thought we'd had it there."

To her surprise, she could hear Butch breathing as harshly as she, and then she became aware that his hands still had a firm grip on her leg and the back of her neck, and his face was buried against her throat, his hot breath burning over her skin.

"I'm sure he's long gone by now," she said, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.

"Shall we carry on then?"

Her temper flaring, Alex shoved against him as hard as she could, and though he barely budged, he got the hint and released her. Stumbling out from behind the cabinet, it took a moment for her to catch herself and her senses. Her heart was gradually slowing, and she nervously checked the time. It was almost midnight.

"We should get out of here," she said, glaring up at Butch, who came out from behind the cabinet running a comb through his hair.

"Let's go then," Butch said, as though nothing had happened.

Alex looked at him in disbelief, but turned on her Pip-Boy light to illuminate the way.

Once they were out, Alex flashed the light around the room and looked pensively at the three doors facing them.

"Where do those go?" she asked, momentarily forgetting her anger.

"That there is another room like this one, and that –" he paused, looking at the door opposite the way they had come to get here "– that leads to _the_ door." He gave her an intense look. "You know. The big one."

Alex couldn't hide the shock that registered on her face. Her eyes snapped away from his and back to the door that, eventually, led _out there_. She could feel a strange swelling inside her chest, one that she thought would lift her up off the ground, combined with a sharp painful longing. Her dream was through that door, maybe a little ways on, all she had to do was keep going –

Alex stopped herself there. What she was thinking was insanity. First, she had never once considered leaving her father behind – _but then_,_ how will I ever convince him to go_, _he won_'_t even consider it_, a small voice argued. Alex shook her head. She'd figure that out eventually. This kind of idea, if she even had the courage to go through with it, would require immense planning, not spur of the moment action.

She looked back at Butch, and was surprised to see him watching her intently.

"What?" she asked automatically. "I thought you were leading us out of here?"

Butch grinned, then shrugged and led them back the way they had come. "Does that imply you'll follow wherever I go?" he asked tauntingly.

"Not exactly," Alex replied sweetly. "This way the security guard will see you first, and I might have a chance to get away."

"Good to know you've got a little bit of cutthroat in you too," he said evenly. "Maybe that's why you've been hanging around with a Tunnel Snake."

"Even inside the safety of the Vault, it's still survival of the fittest," Alex said without thinking. The Serpent King gave her a calculating look that didn't sit well with her.

"And you think the odds are better around me?" he finally asked, sounding as casual as possible.

Alex marveled for a moment at how he could make something so ludicrous sound completely sane, then shook her head again. "I think I'm on my own in this."

They remained silent for the rest of the journey back to the reactor level, where Alex quickly changed back into her own clothes and allowed Butch close enough to remove the numerous hairpins he'd used to hold up her hair. When the dark locks finally hung in a wavy mass down her back once again, she felt his fingers run through it one last time, and made a quick retreat, pulling it away from him.

Butch chuckled. "Relax, baby, I'm not gonna try anythin'... at least not yet."

Alex glared at him. "Or not ever," she said severely. Butch laughed again and threw everything back in his pack.

"I'm outta here," he said finally. "Gotta get this back to its rightful owner, and hopefully get some shuteye. Catch ya later."

Alex watched him go, fuming as he disappeared through the door, and after waiting a few minutes, she stealthily climbed the stairs and set a course for the safety of home.

A quick glance into her father's room revealed that he was still working in the clinic, even though it was now after midnight. Alex shrugged and shut herself away in her own room, then quickly began unloading her stolen contraband, hiding the spare parts among the assorted instruments she would carry back to work in the morning. Tomorrow would be soon enough to continue her project.


	9. Surreal

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Fallout.

Author's Note: Hello readers! I think it's been a short while since I last updated, but I have returned and I come bearing gifts. Well, more like a pre-gift. This here chapter leads into the real gift. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please grace me with your reviews because I love to read them.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Surreal

Morning came all too soon.

Alex sat at the small kitchen table yawning widely over a steaming mug of coffee and trying to bully her brain into waking up.

"Long night, honey?" James asked, then almost immediately let out a great yawn of his own as he shuffled over to the coffeepot.

"Yeah, I got home a little later than I planned," Alex said dully over the rim of her coffee mug.

"So you and Amata had a good time?" he asked happily, joining her at their small table.

Alex looked down into her coffee and nodded, trying not to look guilty.

"That's good," James said. "I'll be working late again tonight, so if you want to make plans –"

Alex shrugged. "We'll see what happens," she said quietly. "Amata has her own schedule to keep up with."

"Of course, of course," James said, his good mood undeterred by her evasiveness. He checked the time on his Pip-Boy then drank down his coffee and got to his feet. "I better be off. I'll see you at dinner."

He pecked her on the top of her head, told her to have a good day, and then he was gone.

Alex took a few more swigs from her mug, then decided it was time she got going as well. She quickly washed the mugs and put them away, grabbed her backpack and, still yawning, walked at a brisk pace to room seventeen-B.

Butch wasn't there yet, but that didn't surprise her. He was almost always late. Pushing him from her mind, she went straight to her workbench and, with a small thrill of excitement, began unloading her equipment.

Today would be the day. She finally had the parts she required – all that needed doing was for her to assemble the pieces and then she would _finally_ be able to conduct a proper test fire... though perhaps she ought to wait until tonight to test it. Her father _had_ given her leave to make plans, giving her a full evening to conduct her experiment.

By eleven o'clock Butch had still not shown up for work. Alex had finished her modifications _and_ taken care of a customer, but her mind was starting to wander... and worry. Had he been discovered after they had parted ways last night? She bit her bottom lip and found herself poking her head out and looking up and down the corridor. What if he _had_ been caught? Would he rat her out to save his own neck? Alex almost snorted in answer. Of course he would. In a heartbeat. But if that were the case, she would have already been taken in for questioning and her equipment confiscated.

No, she told herself firmly, the dolt was likely having a lie in, or was off fooling around. Shaking her head, Alex went back to her workbench, but barely two minutes later she heard the salon door slide open and looked over her shoulder in time to see Butch swagger into their conjoined workshop. He stopped when he spotted her, gave her a once-over, and smiled jauntily. "Worried I wouldn't turn up?" he asked arrogantly.

Alex flushed in embarrassment, meanwhile trying to appear completely unconcerned. "More along the lines of worried you'd been caught out after curfew and turned me in," she retorted.

Butch's grin evaporated and was replaced with a scowl. "That's really harsh, baby."

Alex flushed even deeper and turned back to her workbench where she fiddled aimlessly with her tools. "Are you saying you wouldn't? I thought I was dealing with a big, bad Tunnel Snake."

Butch went quiet, and Alex felt a grim relief that at least some things hadn't changed. Then, before the tension in the air could become too awkward, she said, "I finished it."

"Is that right," came Butch's voice from near his shelves. He sounded vaguely interested, and Alex gave him a quizzical glance over her shoulder. He was collecting his tools from his storage shelf; he would have looked cool and uninterested, but his eyes were narrowed and cold, and Alex could see a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"That's right," she said uncertainly. "I already installed the new parts. I'll be orchestrating a test fire tonight. Do you want to join me?"

"If you don't think I'll turn you over to the Overseer," Butch said coldly.

Alex was stunned by his tone, but Butch had turned his back to her and did not see her face.

"What's your problem?" she asked.

"My problem?" he said, turning around to glare menacingly at her. "I don't have the problem, baby. I'm the one who took a chance helping you out. If you don't know who you can trust, I say that's _your_ problem."

Alex was speechless. She mouthed wordlessly at him and nothing came out, but then Butch sneered down at her, sneered as though she were beneath him, and Alex felt a horrible mixture of hurt and burning anger churning away inside her.

"Are you suggesting I should trust _you_?" she demanded, taking refuge in anger. "Like you've never given me good reason not to? Or does everything get washed away because you've helped me out once?"

"You know what, forget this," Butch growled, shoving his tool case back onto the top shelf. "I'm outta here." Halfway through the door, he stopped and glared back at her. "And next time you need something, you can just go ask your friend Amata. I'm sure she'll go right behind her Daddy's back to steal something for one of your little pet projects."

And then he was gone.

Alex stared at the door he'd disappeared through in complete silence for several minutes, and then, seething indignantly, grabbed the tools of her trade and dumped them haphazardly in the parlor. Muttering to herself, she went about setting up her station in preparation for her afternoon appointments.

"Who does he think he... never asked him to... _my_ problem... he's the one with a problem –"

"Bad timing?"

Alex spun around to see Freddie Gomez standing alone at the entrance of the parlor, looking both apprehensive and amused. "If you like, I can come back tomorrow."

"No, no, it's all right," Alex said, trying to force her lips into a smile. "Please come in and take a seat."

Freddie sat on the tattoo bench while Alex gave her equipment a final once-over, double checking that her tattoo gun was adjusted back to the lowest setting.

"So, you finally made up your mind?" she asked, trying to sound pleased rather than impatient.

"Yep, I'm gonna do it this time," Freddie said pleasantly.

"Same thing as last time?"

"And the time before that," he affirmed.

Alex gave him a curious look; Freddie was unusually cheerful. Typically, he was morose and moody, not sitting and smiling vaguely to himself as though all was right in the world. Shrugging to herself, she began riffling through her drawings until she found the design she had originally made for him weeks ago. She found it near the bottom of the pile; it was a simple design of a heart with the initials C.K. drawn ornately in the center. Alex had little doubt who the initials referred to, and she had even less doubt that Freddie's affections were vastly misplaced.

_Not unlike my own_, a wayward voice muttered inside her head, and Alex froze where she stood, staring blankly at the picture. _I do _not_ have misplaced affections_, a very indignant and stubborn voice insisted, _not for_ _anyone_,_ especially that stupid Tunnel Snake_. Determinedly she pulled herself back to the task at hand.

"Have you decided where you want it?" she asked.

"On my left bicep," Freddy said, already stripping off the upper half of his jumpsuit. Alex watched indifferently until he was situated, then began preparing his skin by cleaning it and removing the fine hairs. When she finally touched the laser to his skin for the first time, he did not cringe away as she had expected, or even squeal like a little girl, but sat completely still, humming tunelessly to himself and barely paying attention to what was going on around him.

"So... how're things going?" she asked tentatively, stealing curious glances at him whenever she lifted the laser. "How's work?"

"Work is good," he replied placidly. "It's the same thing everyday, but at least it's not so bad when Amata supervises."

"I see," Alex murmured, still observing his unusually good mood with confused curiosity. "And how're things at home?"

"The same," he said indifferently, and did not elaborate.

"Uh huh." Then, a few minutes of silence later, "So... you seem rather cheerful. Has anything _good_ happened?"

Freddie shrugged his other shoulder vaguely and did not answer. He did not look irritated by her questioning, but she decided not to press the issue and was left to silently wonder what had suddenly possessed Freddie to have the initials of a woman who cared nothing for him seared permanently into his skin.

* * *

By the end of the day, Alex's ire had fully returned. Butch had not reappeared all afternoon and it had been she that had had to send away his clients and make excuses for his absence. The least pleasant by far had been Christine Kendall, who had not wanted to believe that Alex had no idea where Butch had wandered off to and had demanded that Alex make it her top priority to alert her when he finally returned.

By dinner time she was muttering angrily to herself all the way to the diner where she joined her father, grandmother, and cousin at the table in the far back.

"Hello, sweetheart. Bad day at work?"

Alex forced a smile as she sat down with her tray.

"Not really. Just a difficult customer this afternoon."

"Oh? Did you handle it all right?"

"Yes, Daddy," she answered, a little exasperated. "I haven't forgotten your lecture on being gracious even when others make it difficult."

James smiled. "That's my girl. Just don't forget that these people will be your clients for the rest of your life. A little patience now can save you unneeded hardship latter."

"I know, I know," Alex muttered, prodding her food aimlessly with her fork.

"Now, James, don't lecture the poor girl here," her grandmother intervened with a small wink in Alex's direction. "I'm sure she did everything you would have expected of her and more."

"Of course, Mama Palmer," James said. "Alex knows she has always made me proud."

Alex glanced covertly at her father, feeling faintly nauseous. Would he be proud of her if he knew what she'd been up to last night? Or if he knew she was building a laser gun, all the while knowing full well that the possession of weapons was explicitly forbidden to all but the Overseer and Security personnel? No, he probably wouldn't. He would be angry at worst, and certainly disappointed. For all her life he'd tried to impress upon her how imperative it was that she follow the rules and remain in the Overseer's good graces... but then, he'd also nurtured her ability to think for herself and had even broken the rules himself by giving her a BB gun for her tenth birthday. He'd warned her himself that even if it _was_ just a toy, the Overseer would still consider it a weapon. Was what she was doing so much worse? It wasn't like she wanted to hurt anyone with it.

"Alex... sweetheart, are you all right?"

Alex started as her father's voice broke through her private musings. He was watching her with an expression of concern, and she force another smile.

"I'm fine, just a little tired," she said lamely. "I think I'll just go home."

"Of course, honey," James said, though he continued to watched her worriedly. "Would you like me to come with you? The Clinic can always wait –"

"No... no," Alex said quietly. "I'll probably just turn in." She was already getting to her feet and collecting her tray. "I know your work is important. I'll be fine."

"All right, honey. I'll be home late again, so I'll see you in the morning."

Alex nodded, bid goodnight to her grandmother and Jonas, bussed her tray and left for the small apartment she and her father shared.

Once there, however, she did not go straight to bed. She spent at least an hour tidying the apartment, lost in her own dark mood as she cleaned every surface, vacuumed the floor and the furniture, and disappeared into her room to pick up the general clutter that built up throughout the week. Only when she sat down on her bed and looked down at the backpack near her feet did her mood solidify into thoughts. Carefully, she opened the bag and tipped it over her bed. The plastic cases tumbled across her pink quilt and she opened the largest among them to reveal the laser gun. It looked so small, so harmless. Just another tool. But through her actions it had become something more. Now it was a weapon, and though she never intended to use it as such, it was still just as dangerous. She had yet to give any serious thought to how much trouble she would be in if this were ever discovered. She'd stolen the parts she needed with very little hesitation and even lied about where she was going and what she was doing. She had impersonated a fellow Vault resident who would very likely take the fall if her pilfering was ever discovered; even if Christine was as unpleasant as anyone could be, she didn't deserve to be disciplined for something she hadn't done. She had done so much wrong, and for what purpose? For a morbid desire to pursue a mere shadow of the life she believed she should have and couldn't let go of? To gain knowledge she could never apply, or even discuss with her loved ones? She was risking so much by her own recklessness, not just for herself, but for her father as well. The Overseer could so easily punish him for not knowing what was going on inside his own home.

When it came right down to it, she didn't have much of a choice. She would have to undo what she'd done. It just wasn't worth the risk.

With grim resolution, she opened her tool box, but as she was poised to pry open the casing, she hesitated, her fingers hovering over it. Despite all reason, it seemed like such a waste to take it apart, to throw away all her hard work when she hadn't yet gotten the chance to test it. It couldn't hurt, could it? She had the whole night ahead of her, and first thing tomorrow she could take it apart. After all she'd done to get to this point, she at least wanted to see if it even worked.

Decided that her course was reasonable, she quickly packed away the gun and stuffed the cases back into her backpack, then slung it over her shoulder and dashed out the door.

Now the question was, where should she go? She could go down the Reactor Level, but she had been going there quite regularly as of late. While she had carefully avoided both cameras and Security, someone might have noticed her coming and going, and besides, it didn't seem like the smartest place to test an energy weapon –

"Evening, Alex. What has you out at this time of night?"

Having been lost in thought, Alex looked up just in time to avoid colliding with Officer Gomez. She stopped dead, uncertain what she ought to say, but Officer Gomez kept on talking before she could speak.

"It's just past curfew, you know. You really ought to get back home."

"Oh!" Alex said, thinking quickly. "I'm sorry, Officer Gomez. I just realized that I'd forgotten my sketchpad at the parlor and I have some work to finish – you know, before I open up tomorrow. I was just going to get it and forgot to check the time."

"Oh, I see," Gomez said genially, glancing at her backpack and accepting her tale without question. "Would you like me to escort you so no one gives you any trouble?"

"No, but thank you," Alex said politely. "I won't be long. I should be fine on my own."

Gomez hesitated over accepting her refusal; the Doc had always done good by him and everyone else in the Vault, and it seemed only proper that he at least watch out for his daughter, but on the other hand, he knew Alex to be more than capable of handling herself and didn't think much of intruding when she obviously preferred her own company right now.

"All right then, if you say so," he said.

Alex had no choice then but to take off in the direction of the Atrium. Now what was she going to do? Could she conduct her tests in her workshop? The area was a little cramped, but if she proceeded cautiously it should be safe. The back room was well insulated by the parlor, and unless someone actually came inside, she wouldn't likely be discovered. It seemed like a good plan for the moment, so with a new spring in her step, she picked up her pace.

Minutes later she was closing the door behind her in the darkness of the parlor. She didn't dare risk turning on the lights, so she was forced to walk blindly across the floor to the next door, but before her fingers reached the touch-pad, she heard a sound that made her heart go still in her chest. There was soft laughter coming from the other side of the door; a soft, feminine giggle followed by a lower, more masculine laugh. She knew of only one man who would be in there for any reason, and at this time of night, given what she'd just heard, that reason could not be anything good.

Alex stood there in the darkness and pressed her ear to the cold steel of the door, straining to hear more while a small battle ensued inside her. There was a voice in her head, the good Alex who followed the rules and lived to make her Daddy proud, that was ordering her to simply turn around and leave. Nothing good could come from opening that door. She was smart enough to guess what was happening on the other side, and she would be better off returning home and forgetting the incident.

_Not so_, argued the other voice, the one less spoken, but all the same, the one that had been growing more and more active over the past several weeks. This voice whispered inside her mind, egging her onward, until her fingers almost itched to activate the touch pad. Why shouldn't she open the door? This was her place of work. She had every right to be here. And just maybe she would finally see that Butch was the exact same good-for-nothing Tunnel Snake she'd always known and that would be enough. She could stop feeling so confounded by this friendly-enemy relationship that they had somehow started and everything could go back to normal.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed her fingers over the touch pad; the door slid open and she switched on the lights.

Three loud gasps echoed throughout the room, and the loudest came from Alex's own lips. She wanted to blink, to look away, but it was like watching some horrifying trauma in the Clinic. Standing before her, locked in Christine's embrace, was not Butch DeLoria, but Freddie Gomez! They both stood there, staring at her in stunned silence, and she stared back, equally speechless, unable to assimilate what she was seeing. Christine... and Freddie... Freddie and Christine... It was so... so... laughable. So surreal. So impossible! How could something like this even happen? The notorious snob Christine would never give Freddie the Freak the time of day. But here they were, in her workshop no less!

"What are you doing in here?" she finally asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

Freddie and Christine looked at each other, and after a prolonged silence, Freddie spoke up. "I was walking by on my way home, and I saw the lights still on. When I looked inside, Christine –"

"– was looking for Butch," Christine cut in. "He missed my appointment this afternoon, and I thought –"

"That he would be here after hours?" Alex asked incredulously. It sounded like a ridiculous tale to her ears.

"Yeah, something like that," Christine said lamely, looking more embarrassed than Alex had ever seen her.

"Well, as you can see, he's not here," she said. "And you two really shouldn't be here either."

There was an awkward pause, and then Freddie spoke up again. "Right, lets get going then. Shall we, Christie?"

"I – I'll catch up to you," she said, giving Alex a shifty look. "You go ahead."

Freddie looked wordlessly between the two of them as though he wanted to object, but apparently he did not have the nerve to contradict her. He nodded and dashed past Alex on his way out, then disappeared into the darkened corridor.

Now that she was alone with Christine, Alex felt a bit nervous. What could Christine possibly have to say to her? Could she know that Alex had impersonated her and stolen Vault supplies under her name? Would Butch have told her? Or had she already been questioned by Security?

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Alex started, looking at Christine as though she'd lost her mind as the words sank in. Was she seriously asking her to keep her secret?

Trying to act indifferent, Alex shrugged. "Who would I tell?"

"Oh – well, you know..." she said, trailing off meaningfully.

Alex stared at her in confusion, but when Christine looked around the workshop, it suddenly clicked. "You don't want Butch to know?"

Looking very uncomfortable, Christine nodded.

"Why?" Alex asked, still confounded. "You don't think he's faithful to you, do you?"

Christine flinched at her bluntness, but it was a well-known truth. "It's not just that... it's –" She looked out the way Freddie had left.

"Oh. I see," Alex said coldly, suddenly understanding. "You don't want anyone to know you were with _Freddie_."

Christine looked even more embarrassed and even a bit ashamed, though of Freddie or herself, Alex couldn't tell.

Alex glared at her. She wasn't exactly friends with Freddie, but all the same, he was Amata's cousin, and he had it bad enough without this floozy stringing him along. "So you don't mind using him on Butch's night off, so long as no one knows about it. That would just destroy you, wouldn't it? Imagine what everyone would say if they knew Christine Kendall had to resort to Freddie the Freak."

Christine didn't reply, but glared defiantly at Alex, who was surprised by her lack of retaliation. "Nothing to say?" she asked. "Or does it not matter to you that that poor guy has been pining after you for years? Who cares if he gets hurt so long as no one finds out about your dirty secret?"

Christine looked furious, but for just a second, Alex thought she saw a flicker of pain beneath her perfect, delicate features. How could that be possible? What reason could Christine have to feel hurt? Alex watched her uncertainly as Christine still refused to speak, would say nothing to defend herself. How... unusual. Christine wouldn't take a verbal assault like this from anyone, least of all her.

Seeing that she would get nothing more out of her, Alex shrugged. "It's your business," she said. "I just stopped into work to fetch something. So far as I'm concerned, I didn't see anything."

Christine looked stunned by this sudden change of tactics, and even looked as though she wanted to ask why she was suddenly letting it go, but then she simply nodded and left quickly.

Alex stared after her, then vigorously shook her head. What was this Vault coming to? She hadn't felt so befuddled since she'd gotten her G.O.A.T. results. Had Christine simply reached a whole new level of deperate? It didn't seem possible when Butch had just been with her the night before. Maybe she really liked Freddie? That seemed even less possible. Shaking her head again, Alex turned off the light and left the parlor. She had come here looking for answers, but all she seemed to have was more questions. Even worse, it was no longer a good idea to conduct her experiment here. There was always a chance Christine and Freddie could come back.

But where could she go now? Aside from the Reactor Level, she didn't have any other place where she could count on being left alone. There was the science lab; at this time of night it was almost guaranteed to be empty, but with her father working tonight, it was too risky when he might possibly need use of it.

Her feet wandered aimlessly for several minutes as she instinctively avoided the cameras. Perhaps it would be better if she gave up the whole idea and went home. She could only find trouble if she stayed out wandering around like this –

As she turned her steps back in the direction of home, an unexpected noised startled out of her reverie. Laughter was coming from around the bend at the far end of the hallway. Loud, crude, rancourous laughter. It didn't take her more than one guess to know who it was coming from, and mere seconds later, three tall, burly, teenage boys wearing identical leather jackets rounded the corner.

Alex's heart began to pound; she had no time to flee, had nowhere to hide. The only hallway leading off this corridor was on the far side, closer to the Tunnel Snakes than to her. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves, and it was Butch who glanced up first and saw her standing there. His expression turned to one of mild surprise; their eyes met and locked, and Alex was vividly reminded of their harsh words to each other that very morning. Would he take this opportunity to retaliate? She glared at him just in case he would, daring him with her eyes to try something, and for just a moment, he looked like he would happily take her up on that offer, but before he could decide, Wally Mack looked to see what had Butch so distracted, and immediately his thin lips cut a malicious grin across his brutish face.


	10. Show Me Yours

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Auhthor's Note: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! I'll be the first to admit, comments from my readers are my own form of crack. I don't think I have a huge following for this story yet, but I do hope I get there as the story grows in length. Now, I am also working on an original story that I am hoping will make me the next JK Rowling (though that hope could be in vain) so I won't be able to update this as often as I'd like, but I will not abandon it, so as long as I'm breathing, you can expect an update.

* * *

Chapter Ten

Show Me Yours

Surrounded on all sides, completely alone and outnumbered, Alex could not remember a time when she had ever been in a worse predicament. Three Tunnel Snakes were leering greedily down at her, circling her like a pack of predators as their group closed more tightly around her. She didn't dare look into their faces; she knew she could expect no help from Butch, and even worse she could feel a slight trembling in the region of her knees. There was no chance she could take them all on at once, and though her mind was racing, no clever diversion came to mind. She could think of nothing she could say that might distract them long enough for her to escape, and she doubted she could summon the calm she would need to talk them down. No doubt her voice would tremble worse than her knees.

"Lookie here, boys," she heard Butch say from behind her, "a lost little mouse scurrying around in the dark."

Wally and Paul laughed sycophantically; Alex could feel their eyes on her and shuddered.

"Look at her shakin', Butch," Wally laughed. "I think daddy's girl is scared."

"Aw, there's no need to be scared, baby," Butch cooed, pulling her backpack off her as he wrapped an arm around her from behind. "The Butch-man is gonna take good care of you."

Alex tried to grasp at the strap of her pack, but he wrenched it away from her and dropped it on the floor, then hooked his arm through hers, pulling it back so she couldn't strike at him. She struggled clumsily to pull herself away, but his grip on her didn't slacken in the slightest. They laughed cruelly at her efforts, but through the echoing noise Alex heard Butch hiss in her ear, "Just play along."

Alex felt dazed with confusion. Was he actually going to help her? Or was he just trying to get his entertainment's worth? Perhaps he just had some twisted desire to make her fight so he could force her submission in front of his stupid gang. Maybe he would let them all have a go at her. Despite her doubts, Alex felt her trembling lessen and found herself struggling against his grip. Wally and Paul laughed even harder, and Alex angrily kicked back at him, but her foot went wide.

"Oh, you don't need to be like that," he taunted, allowing one hand to slide up along the curve of her hip until it rested just under her breast; just as she was wondering if he would dare go any further, he suddenly grabbed her, groping her breast roughly through her jumpsuit, and Alex let out a small shriek and slammed her heel down onto the top of his foot. Butch immediately released her, swearing loudly. Alex was so stunned by her sudden release and didn't react fast enough before another strong set of arms snaked around her, hooking through both her elbows and locking her arms behind her back.

"Talk about being a major handful," Wally chuckled, coming to stand directly in front of her. He crooked a finger under her chin and forced her face up to look at his. "There's no one to help you now, little girl," he said as his rough fingers made a trail down her throat, "so why not just play nice so no one gets hurt."

Alex was ready to tell him just how nice she would play, but then she felt a rough tug at the throat of her jumpsuit immediately followed by the sound of a zipper. Alarmed, she began to thrash and kick, struggling until she thought her arms would be pulled from her shoulders, but she couldn't move one way or another as Wally laughingly pulled the zipper down to her waist.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "Leave me alone!"

Paul was laughing stupidly behind her, but when he finally was able to get a word out he said, "I don't think she likes that, Wally."

"If that's how it is, maybe she'd like it better if I take her straight to the Overseer," Wally taunted maliciously. "As a junior Security Officer it is my duty and privilege to apprehend anyone caught out of bounds."

Alex went still at these words. If he did take her to the Overseer... she didn't even want to think about what would happen. Her possessions would be thoroughly searched, her illicit experiment would be discovered. Why didn't she just stay home and dismantle the damned thing when she'd had the chance?

"Now that's more like it," Wally grunted triumphantly as he pushed her jumpsuit aside to reveal her lush, round breasts. "Well, a bit smaller than how I like it," he said as an afterthought as he took one plump globe in his hand, "but if that's all she's got –"

"We should take this somewhere a bit more private before we have fun with her," Butch said suddenly. "So's we can take our time with her."

Alex swallowed hard and finally looked up into Butch's eyes. His expression was one of jeering malice, but his eyes were different – serious. He held her gaze only for a moment and nodded ever so slightly.

Though she couldn't see how he planned to help her when all he seemed to be doing was making the situation worse, Alex couldn't fight one way or the other as Paul began to haul her along as he followed Butch to 'somewhere more private'.

"You losers might want to grab my stuff," Alex snapped urgently. "If someone finds it just lying there, they're gonna wonder why I left it and come looking for me."

Wally sneered at her but grabbed one strap of her backpack and brought it with them. She had no idea where they were taking her, but they passed many doors without going in them, making her think Butch just might have a plan. Almost ten minutes had gone by before Butch paused next to a door and took an ordinary hairpin from the cuff of his sleeve. Alex watched in morbid fascination as he inserted it into the lock just beneath the sensor; his other hand reached into his boot and pulled out a small, flat-head screwdriver, which he inserted just under the hairpin. She hung silently in Paul's grip and watched him work, holding her breath in complete silence as he picked the lock; he did not watch as he worked, but instead held his ear close to the lock, as though listening closely. Though she could hear nothing, a second later there was a faint _click_ and the metal door blocking their path opened obligingly. Alex gaped as Butch gestured for Paul to take her in first. Paul obediently did so, all but throwing her though the open doorway. She stumbled several times before she caught her footing. She spun around to defend herself just in time to hear Butch say, "You guys wait out here."

Wally had his leather-clad arms crossed over his broad chest as he stood toe-to-toe with Butch, who remained firmly planted in the doorway, blocking the other two from coming in.

"What's going on, Butch?" Wally asked, aggression emanating from his very stance. "You trying to cheat us outta our piece?"

"Naw, it's nothin' like that," Butch denied airily. "Thing is, I owe this little bitch a _personal_ favor." He glanced back at Alex over his shoulder and touched the side of his nose. "I haven't forgotten about the little nose job she gave me."

"So that's how it is," Wally said, his aggression suddenly dissipating. "Fine, you get her first, if you think you can handle her. Just don't rough her up too much. Leave some for us."

"Yeah, yeah," Butch said dismissively. "You two come back later and we'll take her together, all right?"

"Right," Wally said, ready to walk away, but before he was out of Alex's sight, he stopped and looked directly at her. "Hey, you give my boy Butch here a good time, got it." Then he and Paul left, their crude laughter fading down the hallway.

The metal door had closed before Butch turned to face her; Alex stood in the center of the room, clutching her jumpsuit shut and looking both angry and a little scared.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," he suddenly barked, looking unreasonably angry. "And fix your damn suit."

Alex quickly looked away and turned her back to him. It took a few tries to get her suit zipped shut; her fingers were numb with shock and relief. When she was finally decent she took a few moments to compose herself, then turned back to face the Serpent King, though she couldn't bring herself to look into his cold eyes. After a few slow, deep breaths she managed to say, "Thank you for getting me out of that. I wasn't sure what I was going to do."

"Forget about it," Butch grunted, roughly tossing her her backpack. "Be more careful next time. I might not always be able to help you."

"Right," Alex said, uncertain what to say to that. Then, before she could stop herself, she asked, "Would they really have – you know..."

"Yeah, looks like they would've," he said tersely. "Unless you were smart enough to get away or make them think better of it."

Alex felt her blood run cold. "And – and would you – would you have –" She could hardly bring herself to say the words, and a quick glance at Butch's face made her wish she hadn't even brought it up.

"Did I?" he snapped, somehow managing to look even angrier. "What are you doing wandering around at night anyway? Were you just lookin' for trouble?"

"No, I was looking –" Alex hesitated, then decided she might as well tell him. "I was looking for a test site. I couldn't exactly go firing off a gun in my home."

Butch scowled as though he didn't believe her. "Why couldn't you just go down to your usual spot?"

"Oh, right, fire an energy blast right next to the Vault's reactor core," she scoffed, a little irritated herself now. "Brilliant idea. Wonder why I didn't think of it."

"All right, all right," he said, taking her point. "Where were you going before we... came here?"

"I was actually going to give up and go back home," she said, slinging her pack over her shoulder. "The lab's out of the question; my dad could be working in there tonight. And I couldn't think of many other places where I would be guaranteed a modicum of privacy."

Butch was watching her thoughtfully, and Alex shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "What are you looking at?" she said testily.

"Well..." he said slowly. "I do know of a place I could take you. Question is, can I trust you with it."

Alex scowled at him. "Of course you can. Like I told you before, I'm not a rat."

"Turn about's fair play," Butch said. "You don't trust me; should I trust you?"

Alex flushed a bit. Butch had just saved her from something terrible, even after their argument that very morning; without him, not only would she be at the mercy of Paul and Wally, but her laser gun wouldn't be any closer to completion, and while she wasn't exactly proud of the stealing and impersonating another Vault citizen, the reality was, if she couldn't trust Butch with this secret, who could she trust?

"Maybe I was wrong," she said quietly.

"What'd you say?" Butch asked mockingly. "Didn't catch that."

"I said I was wrong," Alex said a bit louder. "I've trusted you this far. I was wrong to think you'd rat me out."

Butch watched her silently for a few seconds, then abruptly nodded. "All right then, lets get out of here."

"What about Wally and Paul?" Alex asked. "Won't they be mad when they come back and we're not here?"

"Would you rather stick around and wait for them?" Butch asked.

"Good point," she agreed quickly. "Where to?"

"Just stay close and follow me," Butch said.

She did as he said, remaining just a step behind him as he led the way out of the room and back the way they had come. Alex was surprised to realize he was leading her back in the direction of the living quarters. Where could they possibly run this test in that area? At this time of night nearly everyone was in their beds, and any sound would echo horribly through the corridors and alert everyone to what they were doing. Alex didn't dare question him though. This new, fragile thread of trust between them would snap if she constantly questioned and doubted him, so she followed him silently, and was surprised then she found herself in the dead end hallway.

She had only been in this hallway once; years ago as a small child she'd taken a wrong turn on her way to the restrooms and wandered deeper into the living quarters until she found herself before a door that wouldn't open for her. It was at the end of an L-shaped corridor that seemed to lead nowhere, and when she asked her dad where it went, he'd told her of something he called the "Abandoned Levels". He'd refused to explain what was down there, and warned her sternly of the trouble she would find herself in if she was ever caught trying to get through there.

Now Butch was leading her down the very hallway to this almost-forgotten door. Alex felt a small thrill of excitement and nearly rushed forward in her eagerness, but Butch threw out an arm to stop her. Putting a finger to her lips, he glanced around the corner, then gestured for her to look. There, in the back corner, was a small camera mounted to the wall on a swivel that allowed it to slowly rotate this way and that, looking first at the door just out of their sight, and then down the hall toward where they were currently hidden around the corner. As the camera began its slow rotation back toward them, Butch pulled her back and waited. Alex's heart was pounding loudly in her chest and she found herself counting in her head, wondering when Butch would make his move. Just as she reached forty, Butch grabbed her round the elbow and lead her quietly down the hall. The camera was now turning away from them toward the door. Butch led her to the spot exactly under the camera, where they waited for it to turn away from the door. As soon as it was safe, Butch approached the door and hunkered down in front of the lock. Alex watched in awe as his fingers nimbly inserted the bobby pin and the screwdriver and began to pick at it. He appeared to be in no hurry as he worked. By the look on his face, one might have assumed they had all the time in the world, even as the camera paused facing down the other end of the hallway and began its slow rotation back to where they stood. Just when Alex was beginning to feel very, very nervous, she heard a faint _click_ and the door slid open. They quickly dashed inside, and the door slid silently shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.

"Whew," Alex breathed. "That was close. Where did you learn to pick locks like that?"

She heard Butch snort in answer. "You learn a lot of things when you start breaking the rules."

Alex had to a concede that he had a point there. Butch switched his Pip-Boy light on and she followed suit, flashing the light around this way and that to reveal a staircase that lead deeper into the bowels of the earth.

"Where are we?" she asked as she followed him down the set of stairs.

"An old part of the Vault," Butch said. They spoke in soft murmurs. It was freezing down here, and so absolutely quiet that any sound seemed to echo on for eternity. Alex found it more than a little eerie. "My guess is that a hundred years ago there were a lot more people living in this hole. They had to live somewhere, right? No way you could fit hundreds of people into a few small apartments on the second level."

Once again Alex was astonished by his acuity. She had always thought of Butch as rather dim-witted and thuggish; at one time she would have been surprised to discover he knew how to read and write. She certain wouldn't have expected him to be perceptive or farsighted, but he seemed to know more about the Vault than any of its other residents. Even she had never considered that there might be more to the world she'd grown up in, but now, as Butch was showing her, it was really just a small part of a much greater whole.

"Are we just going to wander around in the dark down here?" she whispered as the stairs leveled out and they found themselves in a dark corridor.

"Keep your panties on, we're getting there," Butch said as he took her hand in his and lead her through the darkness. "I got a room down here all set up with lamps and stuff. We can't turn on the light system, it would show up on the power grid."

They walked down the corridor for what felt like ten minutes before Butch finally made a turn and they stopped in front of a closed door. Just as Alex was wondering how he intended to open it without any power, Butch released her hand, crouched down, and manually slid the door upward into the ceiling to reveal a pitch-black room. After pulling her inside, he closed it again, then left her where she stood for several moments until Alex heard the faint flipping of a switch.

Alex winced as the light hit her pupils. The light was coming from an ordinary desk lamp, and already Butch was walking around to light several more.

"Fission batteries," she said, suddenly understanding.

"Gives me light to work with and keeps me off the grid," Butch said, looking around with distinct pride at his hidden bunker. Alex took a good look too, walking a slow circle around the long room, surprised by sheer surplus of amenities he had stocked down here.

To her immediate left were two old, wooden wardrobes that stood side by side next to an old jukebox. This one was different from the one in the diner; when she looked through its glass exterior she saw two rows of old fashioned vinyl records just waiting to be played. Beside the jukebox was a long wooden bookcase. The very top shelf was littered with a collection of shot glasses; some were of plain, clear glass while other had catchy logos or colorful pictures painted onto the sides. The next three shelves were stocked with at least a hundred glass bottles of different shapes and sizes; their labels were faded, but each was filled with either a clear or amber liquid that Alex was pretty certain was alcohol. The two bottom shelves were reserved for what looked like the entire Vault's supply of cigarettes. Cartons were stacked neatly on top of each other, and a few were already missing, presumably empty. Alex hastily moved on, and almost stumbled into the bed in the back corner of the room. It was enormous, but on closer inspection she realized it was really four beds that were pushed together side by side; they were layered with several blankets and plush pillows and Alex guessed there was enough room for perhaps three people to stretch out together. Next to it was a dresser, and next to that, taking up the opposite corner, was a long L-shaped couch complete with a coffee table that was littered with a few ashtrays, partially empty liquor bottles, and a few comic books. A few feet away from the coffee table was an actual pool table, something Alex had only ever learned about in history lessons. It had a complete set of pool balls, and on the wall next to it, just a few feet from the couch, were eight pool cues standing together in a row. Lastly, in the corner to the right of the door, was a heavy leather punching bag hanging from a chain on the ceiling.

As Alex finished her perusal of the room, she spun around to see Butch still standing just inside the door, watching her with a strange expression on his face. Suddenly eager to break the silence, her mind grasped desperately for something to say until finally she blurted, "So is this where you bring your call girls?"

Butch smirked humorlessly, then shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. All the girls I know would blab to the whole Vault and then everyone would know about it, including his High-and-Mightiness. Until now, I just came here for some down time."

Alex went silent as the words slowly sank in, and then she said, "So you mean to say you've never shown this to anybody else?"

Butch scowled. "Yeah, so what? It's not like you're gonna tell anyone, right?"

Alex turned away with a small smile on her face, inexplicably pleased that she was the first person to be admitted into Butch's secret sanctum.

"Did you set all this up yourself?" she asked, looking around once more, this time taking in the assortment of framed pictures hanging on the wall. Several were of the old world before the war: pictures of countryside scenery, of beaches and forests, several with the sun or moon in the background. Some were apparently old movie posters, one of which had a beautiful woman and a ship with sails, under which were the words "Love Sets Sail" and the name 'Vera Keyes'.

"Naw, most of it was here when I found the place," he said, slowly stepping further into the room, watching her study the posters. "Most of the pictures, the pool table, the jukebox and the couch. I added the beds and the shelves, and scoured the other rooms down here for booze and smokes and anything useful."

"Looks like you might have found every bottle in the place," she said, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the shelves. Then she asked, "Does it work?"

He glanced at the jukebox she was staring at. "Yeah. I had to find a big enough battery to power it, but it plays."

"And what's in there?" she asked, gesturing to the wardrobes.

"What d'you think?" he said, opening one to reveal several clothes hanging neatly on wire hangers. "I've never touched them."

Alex, however, was intrigued. She moved closer to get a good look inside, then began rifling through the brightly colored fabrics. There were several dresses, shirts, and slacks, and hanging from the back of the door were several pairs of shiny leather loafers and a pair of pretty pink shoes the likes of which Alex had never seen before; there was a feminine lace trimming the edge with a pink ribbon tied into a bow right above the toes, and the heels were tall, at least three inches in height. They looked so sleek and sophisticated Alex couldn't help but shape them with her fingers.

"Try 'em on if you want," Butch said, leaning casually against the wall beside her.

Alex blushed at the thought of wearing such frilly things, and quickly shook her head as she shut the door of the wardrobe. "No, I still have work to do and its getting late." She looked around doubtfully. "Should we do this in here or someplace else?"

Butch raised his hands in a wide gesture. "We have an entire level to ourselves, baby. Pick a room, we'll set up some light, and there's plenty of stuff down here for target practice."

Alex nodded. "A large room like this one would be best."

"Right across the hall."

Together they gathered up several desk lights and Alex followed Butch into the next room. This one was long and narrow, and looked as though it had been stripped down and used as a garbage receptacle. Skid marks on the floor suggested that the pool table had originally been in here, but only two wall tables and a few dusty chairs remained, and scattered around the floor were several empty liquor bottles.

"This is perfect," Alex said, glancing around with approval. She set down her lamps and pulled one of the tables on one end of the room while lining up the other opposite it, just a few feet from the back wall. All business, she unloaded the cases containing the laser gun and the extra energy cells from her pack, as well as her lab goggles, then went about collecting several empty bottles from the floor. She set them up in a line on the far table, then went back to where Butch was waiting for her.

Only as she was loading the first energy cell into the side chamber did it finally sink in what she was about to do. Her fingers moved clumsily, but when she finally got it closed she took a deep breath and said, "I think I should try it first on the fourth setting. It originally only went to three, but after some... modifications it now goes up to ten."

"You're the science nerd here," Butch said indifferently. "Whatever you say goes."

"Right," she said, "and you should probably step back." Butch shrugged and moved back toward the door.

"Should I take cover behind somethin' heavy for good measure?" he asked, laughter evident in his voice at her precautions, but Alex only made a face at him before putting on her goggles, setting the power level accordingly, turning her back to him, and taking aim at the center bottle.

"First test fire, power level four," she announced, probably out of nerves, and then, with a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger.

The beam of concentrated light went straight and true, slightly stronger and brighter than it would on level three, and she held it for exactly five seconds before she released the trigger and lowered the gun.

"Well, that was... disappointing."

Alex scowled at Butch over her shoulder. His response was to smirk back, and Alex shook her head then went to check on the bottle.

"All right, maybe I could give it a bit more juice," she conceded when she saw the bottle was unharmed. "I'll set it to six this time."

She retook her position, aimed once again, and squeezed the trigger. The power went out after only three seconds, and this time there was obvious damage to the glass bottle; on closer examination, she saw that the glass was partially melted, but it was nowhere the results she was expecting.

"Just set it to ten," Butch said impatiently. "What could go wrong?"

Alex was ready to point out that quite a lot could go wrong, but against her better judgement she loaded a fresh energy cell and set the power level to ten.

"Third test fire, power level ten."

As soon as she squeezed the trigger, Alex felt herself thrown back by an unseen force and skidded across the floor on her rear end as a loud crashing sound echoed around the room. As she scrambled to her feet, she was surrounded by the echoing of Butch's laughter.

"That's more like it," he chortled, pointing her toward where the glass bottle used to stand. Instead there was only an empty space, and scattered around the floor were several shards of glass. On closer inspection, Alex saw that that wasn't the only damage; in the wall behind it a small hole had been burned into the metal, though she couldn't see how deep it went in the darkness.

"I guess we can call that a success," she said, removing the empty cartridge from the gun. "It takes a whole energy cell, but it's more than effective."

"Let me take a shot," Butch said, and Alex reloaded the gun and passed it to him.

"Brace for the recoil," she warned him. "It wouldn't be very dignified if the big, bad Tunnel Snake was sent sprawling across the floor on his ass."

"Yeah, yeah, I got this," he said arrogantly. After taking careful aim at the next bottle, he braced himself and squeezed the trigger. He was forced back half a step, and the bottle at the end of the line shattered into a thousand fragments.

"Well, you weren't sent flying," Alex remarked, "but your aim could use a little work."

Taking another energy cell, Butch said, "Then if you don't mind, I'll put in a little practice."

They took turns each firing nine shots, until Alex called a halt to the experiment.

"Aw, c'mon," Butch said petulantly as she started packing away the cases. "That was actually fun."

"Yes, it was, but if we keep on like this we'll burn through all my ammunition tonight," she said reasonably, slinging her backpack onto her shoulder.

"Then at least celebrate with me," Butch said invitingly, already guiding her back to his bunker. "A night like this deserves a victory drink at the least."

"I don't know," Alex said uncertainly even as she followed him. "It's late, I really should be getting back..."

"Back to being daddy's girl?" he asked, though there was a teasing glint in his eye.

Alex smiled feebly. "All right, fine, but just one."

At his insistence she took a seat on the green couch closest to the bend and watched as he perused his liquor shelves. "What's your poison?"

"I beg your pardon?" Alex asked.

"You know – gin, whiskey, scotch, vodka – or beer if you're not ready for the hard stuff," he said.

"No idea," Alex said honestly. "Whatever you recommend will be good enough."

"Scotch it is then," Butch said cheerfully as he grabbed a bottle and two shot glasses. "Start you off with something easy."

He took a seat on the other half of the couch and set the glasses on the table. "So you've never had a drink in your life?" he asked mockingly as he filled one glass to the brim and filled the second halfway.

Alex glared at him. "Of course I haven't," she said indignantly.

"I thought so," he said, handing her the half shot. "There's a slight burn; breathe in until just before you swallow. It'll go down easier."

Alex took the glass and looked down into the shot glass. The fumes were already making her nose burn, but as she watched Butch take his shot without flinching, she decided to just go for it and after several deep breaths threw the shot back into her mouth as he had. Instantly her throat felt like it was on fire and she started to cough violently. Over the noise she could hear Butch laughing as he thumped her on the back.

"You call that something easy?" she gasped piteously.

"Well, maybe not," he sniggered he her coughing subsided. "But you get used to it after a while."

"I'm not sure if I want to," she said but she held out her shot glass. "Just another half and I'm done."

Butch obligingly poured them both some more and they both took their shots. This time wasn't so bad, though she coughed a bit as she put her glass down on the table.

"That's enough," she said hoarsely as he caressed her back in small, soothing circles. Already she felt a little light-headed and sank back against the cushions, her lack of sleep suddenly catching up to her. Butch's arm slid up from her back to encircle her shoulder, and for just a moment Alex felt comfortable and warm and let out a small sigh of contentment. Her nose was filled with sweet smoke-and-leather smell of Butch DeLoria and she sighed even deeper this time, savoring the scent. Then she opened her eyes and saw Butch staring down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. They stared at each other for several moments, and then, as though she's been prodded in the back with something sharp, she shot back up into a sitting position.

"I should get home," she said quietly, her cheeks suddenly burning. "My dad could be home any minute and wonder where I got to."

To her surprise Butch did not protest and got to his feet. Alex followed him, and they remained silent as they shut of the lights and made the journey back the way they had come to the door that led back up to the second level of the Vault.

"The camera takes thirty seconds of every minute to move from one position to the next," he explained quietly at the door as he looked at his Pip-Boy screen. "Wait until ten seconds after the minute to open the door."

Alex nodded, and sure enough when the door slid open, the camera was facing away from them, working its way toward the living quarters of the Vault. They made the necessary stop under the camera, and when Butch gave the signal they walked away quickly and rounded the corner where they would be out of sight.

"Right," Butch said quietly. "I guess I'll just see you tomorrow."

"Right," Alex eachoed. It felt so strange parting this way, with so much uncertainty. She felt like she should say or do something, but had no idea what. As she was about to walk away towards home, she paused an looked back at him. "Butch – are we friends now?"

If he was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. He looked at her without expression for several moments, as though he was guarding his thoughts, then said in an almost offhanded way, "Yeah... I guess we can be friends."

Alex nodded and left quickly, smiling to herself. It felt good to have a friend again.


	11. Lies and Revelations

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I know, it's been a while, but here I am with an update. And a nice, long one too. I honestly didn't mean for it to come out this long, but this chapter became more involved than I thought it would. If you like, or even if you don't, I welcome feedback!

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Chapter Eleven

Lies and Revelations

When Butch finally made it back to his bed that night, it was no surprise that he was having a rough time falling to sleep, and there was no question in his mind as to why; his newly established friendship with Alex - _Alex_ of all people - was weighing heavily on his mind. For several minutes he simply lay there, wondering just _why_ he had answered 'yes' to her a question. While he had admittedly and unexpectedly developed some sort of unexplainable affection for her over the past couple months, the fact remained that he had never exactly been _friends_ with a girl before and didn't even know how to go about it. And even if he did, when he thought about what he'd like to do with Alex, being _friends_ wasn't exactly what he had in mind; it was simply the way he was with women. These thoughts bothered him almost as soon as they came to them; what had it come to that _he_, the Butch-man and leader of the most bad-ass gang ever to roam Vault 101, was actually _friends_ with the Vault's Number One Daddy's Girl? And further more, did this mean that he actually had to be _friends_ with her before he could get her out of that jumpsuit? Was he losing his touch? That couldn't be possible. No, he had no doubt that he could coax or coerce Alex between his sheets if he had a mind to... And what was he even thinking? Why was he even so interest in that little Daddy's Girl to begin with? And if he was so interested in her, just _why_ hadn't he made his move when he'd had her alone down in the abandoned levels, where there was no one to interrupt them and no one to stop him?

After tossing and turning over these thoughts for maybe fifteen minutes, it hit him: Alex had to be the only girl in the Vault, except for the old women and that frigid bitch Amata, that was uncharted territory, and not only for him, but for every guy in the Vault. And after dealing with the same routine, the same people, the same _women_, day in and day out for so many years, of course he would jump at the chance for something fresh, something different... and something that hadn't been thorough ploughed by the rest of his gang. After that brief taste he'd had of her in the storage room on the Reactor Level, it could only be expected that he would want more.

And yes, Alex was different. But as appealing as that was, different meant he would have to be patient. The trouble with Alex was that, even though he could easily get her into bed, a girl like her required a kind of... special handling. That was, if he had any intention of it being more than a one-time thing. She was nothing like Christie or Susie or the other women in the Vault, who practically threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Alex had never done anything that might even be loosely described as flirting with him; she was clearly too inexperienced and probably didn't even know how. But, as her friend, Alex would grow to trust him, and if she trusted him enough... well, the rest would fall into place. He would be able to have her without scaring her off, and they would remain friendly enough that she would welcome him back for more, should he want it. If that meant he had to be friends with her, where was the real harm in that? After all, he had a head start. Already he'd learned more about her than he'd ever known in the past decade after spending nearly every day for the past two months with her in that parlor. Better still, she didn't annoy him with constant, meaningless chatter, and she wasn't an overblown, attention seeking bitch that demanded constant maintenance. Indeed, she had a rather quiet appeal that, at this moment, made her more tempting than any of the many willing and experienced women he could call upon at a moment's notice.

No, being friends with Alex wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done. In fact, right now it seemed downright brilliant. Reassured that everything would work out as he wanted, Butch fell asleep to happy thoughts.

* * *

At ten o'clock the next morning, Butch DeLoria found himself strolling off to work, though he had in fact been awake since eight. Normally he wouldn't even be out of bed until ten, and it would be another half an hour before he deigned to show his face around the parlor. Of course, it was no mystery to him why he was unusually eager to get to work, and it had nothing to do with the actual work itself... He knew Alex's habits enough to know she would have been there since seven, if not earlier, and he felt a curious anticipation in seeing her, especially after he'd worked everything out last night. But as much as he'd wanted to head off the moment he'd woken up, he'd restrained himself. Nothing good would come from Alex thinking he'd change his well-established habits because of her. She was such a goody-two-shoes that she might actually get it into her head that she could reform him, and that wouldn't be good for anyone.

Just as he turned the corner that would lead him toward the Atrium, Butch found his path blocked, and all thoughts of Alex flew out of his mind. Wally and Paul were waiting for him, standing stoically on either side of the corridor ahead, and he knew without asking just why they were there. Wally was glaring him down as though he were on the same level as Freddie the Freak, and Paul was giving him the same look, though it was just as likely that he was imitating Wally without understand why he was angry. Butch knew he couldn't stand for this kind of insolence from his gang, but even as he swaggered over to where they waited, as cocky and arrogant as ever, he had no idea what he was going to tell them. Inside, he was cursing at himself for not even giving this problem a thought; he'd been too distracted last night.

"Hey guys, I was looking for you last night," he said, baring his teeth at them in a way that resembled a smile. "Where'd you get off to?"

"You were looking for us?" Wally asked, as though he'd misheard. "You hear that, Paul?" he asked, looking toward the lesser member of the group. "Butch was looking for us! Funny, when you think of how we was looking for him half the night." He looked Butch dead in the eye and gave him an equally threatening smile. "I was starting to think you'd taken off with the little Daddy's Girl and left us high and dry."

Butch, who had been expecting just this, did some quick thinking even as he answered. "Naw, man, it wasn't like that at all."

"It wasn't, huh?" Wally asked sardonically. "Then what happened? She get the jump on you and run away to her daddy?"

"Didn't need to," Butch said, leaning casually against the wall. "I let her go."

A ringing silence followed these words. Wally's mouth hung slightly ajar for several moments, as though he couldn't comprehend what Butch had said, but it wasn't long before the words sank in. "You let her go?" he asked, his lips now forming into a skeptical sneer. "And why would I believe that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Butch asked tersely. "You know as well as I do that she's the only virgin left in the Vault. Well, aside from Amata, but I don't like the thought of having my dick frozen off."

"Yeah, so what?" Wally said.

"Sooooo..." Butch said, as though they were stupid not to realize where he was going. When neither Wally nor Paul said anything, Butch rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll spell it out to you. It was no fun just taking her in some abandoned room like any other gal. Christie and Susie are fast babes, but the Doc's daughter... That's something worth savoring, ya dig?"

"So your plan is to... court her?" Wally asked, his face clearly showing his distaste. "Like some sissy mama's boy?"

Butch inwardly winced at the words. "No, no, nothin' like that," he said smoothly. "It's more like I know she wants it, so I'm gonna make her come and get it. After that, it'll be easy to knock that little bitch down a peg or two. The whole Vault will know she had to come beggin' the Butch-man to give her what she needs, dig?"

Wally looked unusually thoughtful as he considered Butch's plan, and it was obvious by the way his jaw unclenched that he liked the way the picture was playing out in his mind. "Fine, you made your point... but just to be straight, once you're done with her, Paul and I get some of the action too, right?"

"Of course," Butch said easily. "Us Tunnel Snakes don't keep nothin' from our brothers."

"Right," Wally said. "Well, catch ya later, then. I got training to get to."

"Later, Butch," Paul chimed in. "Tunnel Snakes rule!"

Butch watched them go with a distinctly unsettled feeling in his gut, a feeling that he didn't quite understand. He'd gotten Wally off his back, which was good, but in doing so he'd more or less gave them permission to have their 'fun' with Alex once he was done with her, and after going through so much trouble to get her to admit she trusted him, the realization of what he'd done left him feeling... strangely hollow. No matter what he told Wally, the image of his hands on Alex made him want to rip his friend limb from limb... No, he was being stupid. It was pointless to think about it right now. Who knew, maybe when the time actually came, he probably wouldn't even care. And if he did... well, he'd just play along for the moment and deal with them later. He was the leader of this gang, and if either of them wanted to lay a hand on Alex, they'd have to take it up with him first.

* * *

As Butch had predicted, Alex was already tinkering away at her workbench when he finally arrived. She was hunched over, a sure sign that she was fixated on whatever new project she was working on, and in interests of their new-found friendship, Butch decided he'd try to say something to her.

"Hey, babe," he greeted smoothly. "Working on some new toy?"

A clattering of tools before she spun around told him that she hadn't heard him come in. "Butch," she said, sounding a little breathless, and somehow surprised to see him there. "No, nothing new. I'm just... well... I decided it was time..."

With a glance at the workbench behind her, Butch saw the small laser gun with it's casing already open and several parts already scattered around it. "Did you think of some way to make it better?" he asked, now genuinely interested.

"Well, not exactly," Alex mumbled, not looking him in the eye anymore. "I decided it was time to take it apart. You know, return it back to its original state and purpose."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked in disbelief. "That thing was crazy."

"It was, but really, I was out of my mind to make it," she said. "I realized that last night, before you and your gang found me. I should have taken it apart then, but I just _had_ to test fire it, and look what almost happened. You and your gang could have... you know... and if I'd struggled, Wally would have taken me to the Overseer, and if he searched my things thoroughly, he would have realized what I'd done. Not only would I have been in for it, but there's no doubt in my mind the Overseer would have used it as an excuse to punish my father."

Butch scowled. "Then don't get caught with it. It's that simple."

"It's _not_ that simple," Alex insisted. "And it's a huge risk to keep on taking."

"What's the big deal?" he asked. "So his High-and-Mightiness would get his panties in a knot. What's life without risk?"

"I've taken enough risks," Alex said, almost pleadingly. "I made it work. I did what I set out to do. Why keep it going when it's so dangerous?"

"I dunno, maybe because it's what you want? Who cares if it's wrong? It's your life, isn't it?"

Alex turned her back on him, and Butch wasn't certain if she was thinking about his point or not until she said, "I don't really know if it _is_ my life. It's hard to justify that kind of reckless thinking when it could hurt someone I love." She paused, and when Butch came around so that he could see the side of her face, she looked utterly embarrassed even as she chuckled humorlessly. "I guess I really am a Daddy's Girl."

"Yeah, you are," Butch said, but there was none of the mockery that Alex had grown to expect. He seemed to say it as a statement of fact, and after a short pause, he added, "If this is something you gotta do, do it. I won't stop ya. But don't forget that big shots like the Overseer can only boss you around so long as you let 'em."

Butch turned his back on her then and began the daily grind of setting up his work station. It gave him some satisfaction, several minutes later, when he happened to walk past Alex's workbench and saw her back to work, replacing the pieces she'd extracted from the laser gun.

* * *

Two days had passed by, and Alex found herself surprised by how... pleasantly everything was progressing. Granted, not _much_ had changed as far as her daily routine went, but there was a subtle difference in the air around the parlor. While she and Butch still engaged in their typical idle banter, the exchange of clever insults were occurring less and were instead replaced by pleasant, if trivial, conversation. She had spent half the night and all morning of that first day worrying and wondering if anything would change between her and Butch, and how it might change, but now she felt silly. While it was clear that Butch felt just as uncertain as she was on what being 'friends' meant for them, he seemed to be making an honest effort, and really, it felt as though the culmination of the past couple months was simply progressing on its original course.

Another three days passed in a similar manner, but the real surprise had come the following Friday evening when Butch invited her to join him at the diner just as they were closing up shop. She'd looked up from packing her bag, completely dumbfounded, and blurted, "What about... you know, everyone else?"

Butch frowned, clearly not understanding her hesitation. "What _about_ everyone else?"

Alex blushed and looked down at the floor. "Well, to start, there's Wally and Paul –"

"Don't worry about them," Butch said indifferently. "I'm the leader of the gang, and if I say it's cool to hang with nerds, they better be hanging with Freaky Freddie by Monday."

Alex couldn't help but grin at the laughable image he painted. "All right, but then there's your multitude of girlfriends and female admirers: Christie, Susie, and I don't know who else –"

"The Butch-man don't have _girlfriends_," Butch denied haughtily. When he saw Alex looking at him skeptically, he flushed and added, "All right, fine, I've hooked up with most of 'em, but it's not like I tell 'em I love 'em and kiss 'em goodnight and all that."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him, but decided not to press the subject. "Fine. Lastly, there's my dad. He's been under the impression that I've been spending my time with Amata for the past couple weeks. What is he going to think when he comes to join me and the family for dinner and sees me hanging out with you? Or, if he doesn't stop by, he hears it through the Beatrice and Co. Gossip Network? It's not like we've been the best of friends or anything like that. He's gonna know something's up."

Butch scowled, hating to admit that she had a point. "So what you wanna do? Keep lying to him forever?" he asked.

Alex winced at the thought and shook her head. "Not forever. Just for right now. I still need to figure out what I'm going to do about the whole 'lying to him about my reconciliation with Amata' thing."

"You could tell him the truth," Butch suggested, leaning casually against the wall beside her. "Tell him Little Miss Prissy ain't your friend and you'd rather hang with me."

Alex glared at him. "Friends though we might not be, but I won't stoop to calling her 'Little Miss Prissy'. None of this is her fault, you know. We're just – we're just in different places now."

"And lucky for you, the place you're in happens to include me," he said, his blue eyes teasing her.

Trying not to grin, Alex let out a long, suffering sigh. "Well, when life gives you lemons..."

"Ouch, baby," he said, smirking as he pushed away from the wall and loomed closer to her. "There's no need to be so cruel."

Smiling mischievously up at him, she stood her ground. "I thought that's what being a Tunnel Snake was all about?"

"Oh, so you think you've got the makings of a Tunnel Snake now, huh?" he asked, grinning widely at the thought.

"Well, when you slither with legless lizards –"

Butch cut her off with an unexpected bark of laughter, and, surprised, Alex found herself laughing with him.

"That smart mouth is really going to get you into trouble, y'know," Butch said finally. "But if you won't come with me to the diner, how's about you sneak out with me tonight instead? We could go downstairs and hang where _everyone else_ won't see."

Alex pursed her lips thoughtfully, then said, "I think that would be feasible. What time?"

"Meet me in our usual place at ten," he told her.

"Got it."

Shaking his head, Butch headed for the door and muttered, "Figures. First time I offer a girl a respectable dinner, and she wants to sneak off with me behind her daddy's back."

Alex grinned as she watched him go, then finished packing up her bag and headed home to drop off her backpack. Her thoughts were centered on the evening ahead even as she drifted into the diner thirty minutes later and took her seat beside her grandmother.

"Hello, sweetheart," she heard her father say. "You seem rather cheerful. Did you have a good day?"

Flushing at the realization that her thoughts were so transparent, Alex gave her father a short nod and looked quickly down at her dinner tray. "I did," she said quietly.

Bewildered by his daughter's abrupt change in temperament, James looked from Alex to his mother-in-law, clearly perplexed. The old woman merely smiled and gave a delicate shrug of her shoulder as if to say she was no more in the know than he.

"Did something... good happen?" he pressed gently, watching Alex closely as she studied her processed meatloaf with undue intensity.

"Oh, it was just a good day," Alex said vaguely. She could feel her grandmother's and cousin's eyes on her now, so she forced her eyes up from her dinner tray and elaborated. "I got a lot of work done, and I'm probably gonna go over to Amata's later. Nothing special."

"Well, that's wonderful. It's been days since you've spent time with her," her father said.

"Yeah, well, she's usually quite busy," Alex explained. "Supervisor duties and all, and sometimes she has to take a night-shift. I'm just glad she can make time for me." Alex felt her gut twist even as the lies fell easily from her lips. Wouldn't it just be so much easier to tell them the truth? Why had she lied to them to begin with? What had seemed so harmless weeks ago now made her insides squirm with shame.

"Of course she'd make time for you, honey, you're her best friend," James said encouragingly. "Maybe one of these nights you ought to have her over to our place. Let her know she's still welcome to stop by."

"I'll – I'll do that sometime," Alex stammered, forcing herself to smile. "So what are your plans tonight? More work?"

"Yes, I think Jonas and I are about make a breakthrough on our latest experiment," James said, sounding enthusiastic.

"You really shouldn't work him so hard, James," Lucy Mae said, looking at her elder grandchild fondly. "Poor Jonas works so late he nearly falls asleep in his coffee in the morning."

Jonas coughed into his glass of water, and looking closely at him, Alex could have sworn she'd seen a slight redness through his dark skin.

"I don't keep him as late as all that, Mama," James said, looking curiously at his nephew. "I let him go home hours before I close up."

"Grandma, don't fuss," Jonas said, drying his face with a napkin. "I get plenty of sleep. Some days are just harder to wake up to than others."

He sounded honest enough, but something in the way he didn't meet anyone's eyes made Alex wonder if she wasn't alone in keeping secrets.

* * *

"So what you in the mood for?" Butch asked, browsing the rows and rows of liquor bottles stacked on his shelves.

Alex leaned her hip against the pool table and crossed her arms, surveying him thoughtfully. "Straight to the booze, huh?"

"Yeah, how else d'you expect I deal with life down here?" Butch said, as though it should've been obvious.

It was on the tip of Alex's tongue to ask him if that was the same thing his mother said to him whenever she drank, but she refrained. The last time she'd made a comment about his mother's drinking had been at her tenth birthday party, and she doubted his reaction would be all that much better now.

"I'll try the whiskey this time," she said.

Butch, seeming unaware of her silent lapse, pulled down a bottle and two tumblers and filled each of them. Only when the glasses were empty once and refilled did Butch visibly start to relax. Alex watched him roam uncertainly around the space he called his 'home away from home'. He didn't look at her or speak as he slowly drank his way through his second tumbler, and to her he looked like a man who didn't know what to do with himself. Alex had just begun to wonder if his discomfort was caused by her presence when he stopped in front of the old-fashioned jukebox, looking down into the glass case where the vinyl records were lined up, just waiting to be played.

"That things works, doesn't it?" she asked. When Butch nodded, she said, "Play something for me."

"What do you want to hear?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't listened to much music. Put on whatever you like," she said.

Butch did as she requested, and a few seconds later the saucy notes of a guitar were playing quietly in the background; she didn't recognize what was being played, but the unfamiliar sound was pleasing to the ear and, as though on cue, her foot began tapping to the rhythm of the music. Butch, however, seemed to not hear it at all and merely stared at the brilliant lights of the jukebox as he drank his whiskey. He'd seemed perfectly fine before dinner, even cheerful as he invited her down here, but now she wasn't certain what was going through his mind.

After enduring his peculiar silence for a full minute, Alex said tentatively, "If you prefer to be alone right now, I could go."

"What?" Butch asked, seeming to snap out of a reverie. "No! No, don't go. I just got lost in my own head for a minute. How 'bout we play a round?" he asked, gesturing with his tumbler at the pool table.

"All right," Alex said, taking another drink before setting down her glass and somewhat unsteadily taking up a pool cue. "I know the rules, but I've never played before, so I'm apologizing early if I suck at it."

Shooting her a crooked smile, Butch stacked the balls in order then grabbed a cue for himself. "It's not so hard. A brain like you should be able to figure it out."

She watched carefully as he lined up his cue with the white ball, then sharply thrust it forward, sending the ball on a collision course with the neatly formed triangle on the other end of the table. The sharp clacking of ball against ball echoed loudly around the room, and Alex counted two striped balls that found their way into different pockets.

"So I'm solid?" she said uncertainly. When Butch nodded, she set her glass down on the ledge of the pool table and studied the layout. When she finally chose a prospective ball, she carefully lined up her shot, resting the shaft between her forefingers just as Butch had to stabilize her aim; already her vision was a becoming blurry, and she had to shake her head to clear it of the whiskey. Inhaling deeply, she tried to thrust her cue forward just as Butch had done. What followed made her drop her cue stick to the floor and cry out in shock: the white ball flew up off the table with the force of a small cannon ball, sailed clear over the solid-red number three and the pocket she was aiming for, and ricocheted off the steel wall near the punching bag. Alex watched it apprehensively as it rolled across the floor back in her direction, but before she could say or do anything, the sound of Butch's loud, masculine laughter permeated the room. Immediately she felt her cheeks start to burn, but she turned to glare at him nonetheless. He was holding onto the corner of the pool table to keep himself upright, and laughing so hard she could have sworn his eyes looked a little watery.

"As amusing as I'm sure you find me, I hardly think it merits _this_ level of mirth," she said primly in an attempt to salvage her dignity.

Still chortling, Butch set down his own glass and retrieved the cue ball, then placed it exactly where it had started. "You hit it too hard," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Line your shot up again."

Alex did as he asked, but almost immediately he was readjusting her grip on the pool cue, bring her hand up it a little further for 'better control'.

"Keep your head straight when you aim," he added, coming up behind her where she was partially bent over the table and wrapping his larger hand around hers. "Now pull back smoothly and slowly, get a good feel for the shot before you make it..." He gently drew her hand back, and then forwards, sliding the cue along the bridge of her fingers so she could get a feel of it. "And remember to relax. Now inhale slowly" – she could hear his voice close to her ear now, and his hand released hers and slid gently up her forearm to rest lightly on her elbow – "and give it a quick jab. That's all it takes."

Concentrating on her target, Alex did as he suggested, and to her delight, the cue ball shot toward her target straight and true, sending the red 3-ball into the correct pocket. Pleased with herself, Alex stood straight up and looked over her should to grin at Butch, but they were so close together that when she turned, her cheek brushed ever so lightly against his. They both froze in place for a moment, as though uncertain what to do, but then Alex felt his hand slide up from her elbow to her shoulder; she opened her mouth to try to say something, not even knowing what she should say, but her voice didn't seem to be working properly. Instead she remained still and silent, like a small animal when faced with a predator, until he finally stepped away and began to line up his next shot as though nothing had happened.

Several minutes later, though her speech was starting to become slurred and her footing was not as steady as it should be, Alex had landed several more of her balls into their designated pockets, and to her relief Butch was becoming his usual cocky self. Taking his improved mood as a good sign, she searched for something to talk about, and immediately a colorful poster she'd noticed before depicting a woman and a ship caught her eye.

"I never took you for a romantic," she said.

"Huh?" Butch raised his head and looked where she was staring, then shrugged and lined up his cue again. "Oh. That. It was the ship, if you must know."

"Ah, so you are a big, bad Tunnel Snake by day, but aspiring Old World sailor by night."

Butch grinned. "Something like that," he said summarily.

"I'll admit, I'd never have guessed you dreamed of spending quality time with forty hairy men... in a space the size of this room... for months on end."

Butch immediateky made a face, and Alex could help laughing.

"Sorry, but it's a female only crew," he said. "Interested in joining? I got a special _position_ in mind just for you." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and Alex laughed at his audacity and shook her head. She browsed around the room again, and as her eyes flitted from picture to picture, a repetitive detail jumped out at her... an open field... a dense forest... the ocean... a vast desert... snow-capped mountains... the _Sphinx_...

"You must have pictures of every corner of the Old World in this room," she mused, gazing at them longingly. "Why is that?"

"It's all the places I'm gonna go," Butch said. "Once I get out of here."

He said it so confidently, as though such a thing were not only possible, but inevitable, as though it were something he was destined for. "You say that as though you definitely leaving," she said, now looking at him curiously. "Like you're just waiting for it to happen."

"Waiting for the right time to _make_ it happen," Butch corrected, taking a deep swig of his whiskey. "If I just sit around waiting for it, doing nothin', I'll be stuck down here forever."

"Aren't you –" She almost said 'scared', but caught herself just in time. "The Overseer is always telling us how reports from Vault-Tec are saying it's dangerous out there."

"Pssh, the Overseer is nothing but a two-faced, power-hungry, senile old tyrant." Alex was taken aback by the venom in his voice, but Butch wasn't finished. "I wouldn't be surprised if there were no reports from Vault-Tec at all. He probably makes it all up. He wants to keep us scared and obedient, and if anyone got it into their heads that there was somewhere else to go, some other way to live, he wouldn't be King of the Vault anymore."

Alex blinked several times, stunned by his outburst, and when she could finally speak, she whispered, "I think you're right."

"You're damn right I –" Butch's eyes snapped up to hers. "You do?"

Alex nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. It would make perfect sense. The Overseer is the only higher authority in the Vault, and you know what they say about absolute power."

"Huh," Butch said, now looking at her thoughtfully as her swirled his tumbler around. "Guess you really are the brain in the Vault."

Alex scowled at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not at all," he said easily. "The last chick I said all that to looked at me like I was losing it. For a minute, I thought I might be."

"That's probably why my dad says not to speak about it to anyone else... they'll think you're crazy, and if it gets back to the Overseer... well, like you said, he wants to keep us obedient."

"Exact – wait," he said, looking at her curiously now. "You're saying the Doc talks to you about the Outside?"

Alex blushed. "Not exactly," she said. "I asked him about it, a long time ago." She hadn't meant to give herself away like that, but her heart beat excitedly at the thought that there might be someone else in the Vault who wanted the same freedom she did. She'd never been able to tell anyone about her desire to escape the Vault; her father had warned her long ago never to speak about such things, but just once, it might be nice to get the words out to someone other than her father, to someone who would listen... who would understand. "I suppose I've always dreamed of going out there. Ever since I was a little girl. Since you – when you told me that your dad had left the Vault, back when we first started school. It was all I could think about. I even asked my dad about – about leaving. He says it can never happen, but even still... I still dream about it. Always."

"So if you want it so badly, what's stopping you?" Butch asked candidly.

"Well, my dad won't hear of it," Alex said angrily, feeling the familiar frustration coursing through her. "Every time I try to talk to him about it, he won't even listen. He keeps telling me that this is home, it's safe here, we're born in the Vault, we die in the Vault, blah, blah, blah... sometimes it makes me want to scream. Why doesn't he get it? Doesn't he realize there can be more to life than... than _this_?!"

Complete silence followed her outburst, and it was a full minute before Alex realized her fists were clenched at her sides and her heart was pounding. Shaking her head, she struggled to calm herself. "So... what about you? What's stopping you from leaving?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Are you scared of what you'll find out there?"

To her surprise, Butch didn't immediately deny it. Instead he waited, finished off his whiskey, poured himself another, and looked around the room at his collection of posters. "I guess I just don't wanna go off alone, y'know? I'm not scared," he amended quickly, "but I can read a map. It's gonna be a long haul, getting to all the places I want to go, and yeah, there could be anything waiting out there. We gotta be prepared."

"We?" Alex said, teasing him now, and Butch flushed a little, realizing what he'd said.

"Well, yeah. We. I plan on expanding my gang once I get out there, y'know. Move the Tunnel Snakes onto bigger and better things."

"Ah, of course," Alex said. "Then why not take Wally and Paul with you?"

Butch laughed derisively at the suggestion. "Wally's too busy playin' patsy in the Overseer's little security force. Paul would make a good grunt, I guess, but once I'm out there, I think I'll recruit all new members. We'll be the best of the best. No one'll stop us from doing what we want, or goin' where we want."

Alex shook her head at the thought. "Well, at least you have a plan. I'm not sure where I would begin out there. All I have are some vague ideas. Maybe I'll find something to study. Research and stuff. There's got to be doctors and scientists out there, right?" She looked down into her whiskey tumbler. "Assuming I ever actually get out of here, of course."

"If you want something bad enough, nothing can stop you from taking it."

Alex looked at him in surprise, then smiled sadly. "If only my dad believed that. Then I could talk him into leaving. We could both escape this place and live our own lives... free from these walls, free from the Overseer."

"Why don't you just go without him?" Butch suggested, setting down his pool cue now, as though the conversation had taken on a new level of seriousness for him. It was strange to her to see him looking so intense, so serious about anything. "Why don't you get out of here on your own? Live your own life?"

"I – I've honestly never thought about leaving my dad behind," Alex said meekly. "I can't imagine going off and building a new life alone... without him. Without any of my family. And I know if I can convince him, he can convince my cousin and grandmother to join us. If only he would listen to me."

Butch shook his head. "Parents never listen. They always think they know what's best, even when they can't take care of themselves. One day it's gonna come down to what _you_ think is best, and what _you_ want."

"I haven't reached that day yet."

Her tone seemed to end the conversation, and Alex realized it was her turn, so she took another shot, but was so distracted she missed horribly. She watched Butch take his turn, but the silence suddenly seemed uncomfortable, so her mind darted around for something else to say. Remembering his strange silence when they'd first gotten here, she asked, "Was something on your mind earlier? When we first got here, you seemed to be miles away."

Butch shot her a grin, but she noticed it only seemed half-hearted. "It was nothin', baby. Just some stuff going on with my gang."

"Oh," Alex said, suddenly remembering what Butch had done to help her the first night he'd brought her here. "What happened? With Wally and Paul? Were they angry at what you did for me?"

Butch shrugged. "They didn't like it, but I'm the leader, and I'm the one that makes the decisions. If I decided to let you go, they just gotta deal with it."

This didn't quite tally in Alex's mind, and she told him so. "If that's the case, why couldn't you just do that while they were standing there? Why did you need to trick them into leaving if it's simply a matter of you calling the shots, and them going along with it?"

Butch didn't answer as he lined up his next shot, but Alex could see him scowling. "It's because of Wally, isn't it?" she asked bravely.

Butch paused just as he was about to take the shot, and stood to look at her. "What about him?" he asked, and he wasn't smiling now.

"Well..." Alex started, a little flustered now. "It's just that he's not like Paul. Paul would do anything you or Wally tell him to do; he exists to be led around by others. But Wally... he sees himself as the leader, and only follows along when he finds it in his best interests."

"Oh, so now you think you know all about the inner-workings of the Tunnel Snakes, d'you?" Butch asked sharply, glaring at her.

"No, of course not, it's not like I'm one of you or anything," Alex said hastily, not understanding his sudden anger. "But it doesn't take an idiot to see that Wally isn't a follower. He can think and act for himself. And that's why you had to trick him the other night. He wouldn't have just listened to you if you'd told him to leave me alone."

"Yeah? Well, why do you care how I did it? What does it matter so long as you weren't the next in a long line of Gang-Banged Girls?" He hadn't meant to be so crude, but he needed to get off this subject. He wasn't prepared for this, and he didn't want to say something he couldn't take back.

Stunned, Alex took a step backward, the strong image he'd placed in her head nearly forcing the breath out of her. "I guess it only matters because Wally isn't just going accept your tricks and whatever lies you use to cover them up, not the way Paul would. He's not as stupid as he looks. No matter what you tell him to the contrary, he's got to know that something's up, and I doubt you've given him enough reason to just let it drop."

"Look, I've got it taken care of, okay?" Butch said, setting his cue down and stepping closer to her. "You don't have to worry about him bothering you anymore. I told him to leave you alone, and he will."

"And how did you convince him to do that?" Alex asked, stepping out of his reach. "He had to be angry at you. What could you have told him that would convince him to just let it go?"

Butch stopped short, looking down into her wide eyes as his gut suddenly started to churn. How did the conversation even get to this point? He had no intention at all of telling Alex what he'd said to Wally, that he'd promised him and Paul that they could have their fun with her once he'd had his, because as far as he knew, he'd been lying to them. Sure, he'd have to deal with that later, but still, Alex would storm out of here if she even guessed what he'd 'agreed' to. It occurred to him then that if Alex wasn't such a brain, she wouldn't even have come this close to the truth. She would just accept his promises and let it go. But she wasn't like the other girls. She wanted to know, and if didn't want everything he'd accomplished so far to fall apart, he wouldn't be able to walk away from this without giving her something.

"I told them I wasn't sharing," he blurted, wincing as soon as he said the words and hoping against hope she wouldn't slap him and storm away.

Alex stared at him numbly for a moment, but her face slowly became suspicious, until she finally said, "You're not sharing? What do you mean by that?"

"Well," he started, his mind whirling. "I told 'em you weren't like the other girls, that I... kinda dig you," he said; at least that was partially true. "I said I wanted to – y'know – take it slow. So's not to scare you off. And that if they wanted some, that you were off limits and they could go find their own girls." When Alex didn't reply, indeed seemed so stunned that she couldn't even think of what to say, he decided to embellish his story. "I didn't want to say nothin' to you because I thought you'd just shoot me down without even thinking 'bout it. I thought if we spent some time together, if you knew me, maybe you'd at least give it some thought before sayin' no."

Alex remained speechless for several moments, holding her pool cue limply in her hands while she tried to process everything he'd said.

"So you think I'd automatically say no?" she asked.

Butch raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Wouldn't you?" he countered.

Alex was forced to stop and consider that. "Well, I don't really know," she said. "I'm not sure what you're thinking I would be. Your call girl? Or your... your..."

"My best gal?" Butch supplied.

"Well – yeah, that," Alex said. "And how many of those do you have already?"

"None yet," he said frankly.

Alex watched him pensively for another minute, then, without any response, went back to the pool table and made her next shot. Butch watched the ball roll smoothly into a quarter pocket and found himself wondering what she was thinking. Had he said too much too soon? He hadn't meant to say anything until he had more time to win her over, but her incessant questioning had left him at a loss for what to say, and he'd blurted out the first thing he could think of.

When it came for his turn, he took it, more because he didn't know what else to do with himself, and before long he was feeling uncomfortable in a way no girl had ever made him feel. His stomach was squirming as though he'd eaten a radroach or some other disgusting thing, and he became more and more distracted from the game until he began missing even simple shots. When there were only three balls left on the table, two of his and the eight-ball, Alex set her cue aside and took up her whiskey, sipping it tentatively as she stewed in her own thoughts.

"I'm not sure what I should say," she finally said. "We've only just gotten to be friends, and honestly, I've never thought of you as more. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the _friends_ part."

Butch opened his mouth to tell her she didn't need to answer right now, they could just be friends, but instead he blurted, "I think you have."

Alex's head snapped up, and she pinned him with a steely glare. "What are you talking about?"

Mentally kicking himself, Butch wondered why all of a sudden he was babbling on like a total spaz. "What I mean is I'm sure you've thought about it. I have kissed you once already, y'know."

"So what?" Alex asked, scowling.

"You kissed me back," he said simply, with a hint of his usual smugness.

Alex immediately turned a brilliant shade of red and looked down into her tumbler. "That doesn't mean anything. I was just taken by surprise."

"I don't think so," he said, now setting his own cue aside and coming to stand directly in front of her. "You knew what was going to happen. I don't take a girl back somewhere dark and quiet so we can _talk_."

Alex felt really embarrassed now, and it showed blatantly on her face. When she didn't say anything, Butch gently pried the tumbler from her hands, drained its contents in one swallow, then set it aside and took Alex's chin in one hand and lifted her face to his.

"You know what's going to happen now," he said softly, looking deep into her emerald eyes with a look that had stopped many a girl's heart. "Stop me, if that's what you really want." Then, almost imperceptibly, his lips began their slow descent toward hers; soon they were only inches apart, and Alex was no longer sure of who was closing in on whom. She was too distracted by the depths of his eyes, by the scent of leather and whiskey that had enveloped her, by the sharpness of his features, made even more striking in contrast to the softness of his lips.

"How do you know what I want?" she asked softly; it sounded like a silly question to her own ears, and more like an attempt to delay the inevitable, to give herself more time to come to her senses.

"I can see it," he said softly. "We're more alike than even we know. We both want to be free. We want to take risks." Raising his other hand, he pushed the heavy fall of her jet-black hair away from her face. The gesture was so gentle that Alex felt her stomach do several flips inside her. Butch smiled as though he knew exactly what she was feeling. "We both want to live, to have a little _excitement_." He said the word in a way that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes continued to bore into hers. "We want experience something more. To forget the rules and live like tomorrow will never come."

His words sent a thrill through Alex, straight down her spine and back again. That was _exactly_ what she wanted! She wanted to escape this place, to find something more, to taste the excitement of life and drink deeply. What Butch was offering was fundamentally different, yet more potent than anything she had ever experienced. It was more intoxicating than any whiskey, and it left her feeling warm all over.

Butch recognized the undisguised longing that surfaced in her eyes. It was as fierce and desperate as his own, and it broke his restraint. He felt something inside him reach out for her, and in a heartbeat, his arms were snaking around her. He lifted her and perched her on the ledge of the pool table. And then he heard it; the softest, sexiest moan he swore he'd ever heard. There was such a starkness about it that conveyed a need as strong as his own, maybe stronger, and he couldn't have stopped himself if his life depended on it. He had intended to go slowly, had wanted her to know how much she wanted a taste of him and everything he stood for so she wouldn't be able to take it back later, but having her this close, hearing that single breathless moan from her lips had overruled his intentions. In an instant their lips were fused together and his tongue was sparring with hers. At first, it was slow and cautious, and he became starkly aware of her inexperience. She learned quickly though, and as it escalated, it became a small battle of wills, each testing the other's weaknesses, but even that quickly dissolved into a fierce embrace. The heat passing between them grew hotter and hotter, and soon they were moving together, pulling each other closer, wanting more.

When Butch felt her slender legs encircle his hips and squeeze tightly, forcing him against the core of her body, his cock instantly hardened in response, filling the restrictive confines of his jumpsuit.

He knew the moment she felt it. She moaned into his mouth, and without even thinking his hips began to grind into hers. Alex broke her lips away from his, gasping as an ache began to build where he was grinding against her. Butch, forgetting all about restraint, allowed his hand to travel up her stomach, her ribs, taking one of her breasts in his palm. It was small, but full, and when he squeezed it gently Alex's head fell back, exposing her slender throat. The ache inside her became almost painful, and without conscious thought, she found her hips moving themselves against his, increasing the sensation. Their combined moans filled the room, but when she felt his fingers tugging on the zipper at he throat, her hand clumsily tried to block his progress.

"Shhh," he soothed, placing gentle kisses along her throat. "Don't get scared on me now, baby."

She hesitated for a moment, but when she felt his teeth gently nip at her skin, the sensation turned her thoughts into a blurry haze, and her hand moved away from his to grab at his shoulder, needing something to hold herself upright.

In second Butch had her zipper down to her waist, and before she could protest he leaned her back against the table and his lips were enclosed around one of her swollen nipples. He moaned when he felt it harden against his tongue, and her fingers instinctively tangled themselves in his hair as he started to suck.

"Butch... please..." she whimpered mindlessly, her words slurring so that he could barely understand them over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. "You shouldn't -"

Her protest ended with a sharp gasp as he pinched her other nipple between the tips of his fingers, then he immediately soothed it with his tongue. Taking his time, he divided his attention between each plump breast, moaning as he felt her writhing beneath him. When her moans became cries, and her hands started tugging him away from her, rather than pulling him closer, he obliged her, trailing his mouth down her ribs, then her belly, where he amused himself teasing her small navel with the tip of his tongue.

Alex yelped in surprise at the stab of pleasure that shot straight through her, causing the ache inside her to throb almost painfully. She could hardly form a coherent thought, and though she didn't want him to stop what he was doing to her, another voice inside her was warning her that this wasn't right, that she should be more aware, more in control.

"Butch, stop," she whimpered, her hands trying to push him away. "Wait. This is too fast."

"More like not fast enough," he said, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. "Too many clothes," he hissed, already fumbling with the zipper that attached the top half of her jumpsuit to the bottom half.

"No, stop!" she cried, weakly grabbing his wrists in an attempt to stop him.

Through the lust and alcohol, her word barely registered in his mind, but when they did, it took all his self control to he step away, until there were several feet between them.

Alex gasped when he abruptly left her, and the cold of the Vault surrounded her once more. Even as she hated how pathetic the sound was, another voice inside her was urging her to pull him back to her. She stubbornly ignored it, and soon a slew of raging emotions completely drowned it out. Embarrassment was among them, and regret. Not for what had happened, but for coming to her senses and putting a stop to it. Then reason kicked in. What else was she going to do? Let him carry on until... until...

Not even a full minute had passed before she sat up off the table and pulled her eyes up to his. He was still breathing harshly as he watched her, desire still stark on his face, and she at least felt some pride in knowing he had been just as affected as she. Her eyes moved downward of their own accord, to the place where she had felt a hard bulge pressing so insistently against her; it was plainly visible, and even as she watched, she saw it jump beneath the fabric of his jumpsuit.

"Keep looking at me like that, and you're gonna get to see a _real_ Tunnel Snake."

His voice sounded harsh and strained, and she looked back up into his eyes even as a blush stained her cheeks. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to – I..." She stuttered on for a moment, but when she couldn't complete a sentence, she gave up, feeling even more humiliated.

Butch felt his temper flare up at her words, hating that she was apologizing when it would do nothing to help his current condition. "And for fuck's sake, if you want me to stop, you could at least cover those."

If possible, she blushed even harder when she realized her jumpsuit was still open, and she was sitting there with her breasts exposed. Quickly her hands jumped to her zipper and started pulling it back up.

"Sorry... sorry -"

His anger flared again. "Sorry for what?" he almost growled. "For stopping when we both wanted it?"

Alex blushed furiously, her words tripping over themselves. "No, Butch - I - I don't -"

"Don't what?" he snapped. "Trying to tell me now you didn't want it? Nice try, baby, but I know when a girl wants it, and you want it bad."

"No! That's not what I - I didn't -"

"Then what was that?" He was glaring furiously at her now. "Was that just pretend? Practice for the real thing?"

Alex stared at him, baffled for a moment. "I don't know _what_ that was," she said quietly. "I don't know if that was real, or if it even meant anything." She looked earnestly into his eyes. "_Did_ it mean anything?"

The question surprised him, momentarily displacing his anger. Butch wasn't used to being put on the spot, and this was the second time Alex had done so tonight. No girl had ever asked him that kind of question. They usually made their own assumptions about his feelings for them, and he found it convenient to let them keep their deluded ideas. But here stood Alex, looking up at him with wide eyes, and actually asking him if that kiss had meant anything.

He could lie to her. He could make her believe him. He could lure her into his arms again, and from there, take her to a place where she would no longer care what anything meant, where all she knew was the feeling of their bodies touching everywhere. And it was tempting. So tempting. His inner-Tunnel Snake was urging him to go for it. His need for relief almost drove him to do it. It would be so easy, and he would be able to have her again and again, once she knew just how good it could be. And he knew a part of her wanted him to do it. She wanted to explore what they had started, wanted to feel alive and throw caution to the wind. He had been right to say they were alike, more so than either of them knew; they burned with the same fire, shared the same needs. And they were completely alone, with no chance at all of someone coming along to interrupt them. He could take all the time he wanted to show her exactly how much she wanted it.

But in spite of all that, he already knew he wouldn't do it. And he knew why: Alex trusted him. For some reason, that minute fact changed everything. It was stupid and didn't make any sense to him, but regardless he knew he would tell her the truth. If any girl in his life deserved the truth, it was Alex.

Shaking his head regretfully, he took a calming breath, moved closer to her, and took her shoulders in his hands. "That was _us_. But there is no meaning to it. There is no meaning to anything, and I'm not looking to find any. But it was real, and we both know it. Why does it need to mean anything at all?"

Alex went quiet for a moment, then said, "You're right." When Butch looked surprised, she elaborated. "Nothing I've ever done has had any meaning. Everything I've learned, it doesn't amount to anything, and probably never will. Not as along as I am trapped in this place." She went quiet for a moment, but when she next spoke, her voice possessed a stark conviction. "But my parents found meaning. Even inside this Vault, they found meaning in each other. It's a slim chance that I'll ever find that for myself, but it's all I have to hope for. And I'm not quite ready to give up on that hope."

That said, Alex smiled sadly, shrugged his hands off her, and turned to leave.

Butch made no attempt to call her back.


	12. A Fiend for a Friend

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! One of you mentioned that this chapter has a lot to live up to after the last one, and I really hope I have delivered. The tone is different, but after how the last chapter ended, that's to be expected.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

A Fiend for a Friend

* * *

For the first time in living memory, Alex had the uncharacteristic yet overwhelming desire to play hooky. The impulse fought with her for over an hour as she forced herself to go about the daily routine of brushing her teeth, washing her face, and combing her hair, until finally she mastered it and made herself presentable enough to be seen outside the apartment she shared with her father. Over and over she reminded herself how important working was to her, no matter how meaningless and inconsequential the work itself it was... but then again, going to work meant facing Butch, and she wasn't entirely sure she was up to that. After that fiasco the night before, she felt like the Vault's biggest idiot for actually believing that Butch could just be friends with her, that he wouldn't ask for _more_... or for ever thinking that he could give her more. In her mind, it was ludicrous to think that he of all people could ever want her that way, but she had clearly seen the honesty in his eyes when he'd claimed his interest in her, and the way he'd kissed her... and _touched_ her... she'd never even imagined her body every feeling like that. It was as though time had stopped while they were being fused together in a conflagration of excitement and desire. It had been nothing short of earth-shattering for her, like something out of a fictional romance story, and yet... it held no meaning for him. By his own words, it was no different for him than when he was with any other girl, and that thought hurt the most... but it had also given her the strength she needed to walk away. If she ever did pursue that kind of relationship with anyone, she wanted to mean something for both of them. She dreamed of finding the kind of love she often saw in her father's eyes when he spoke of her mother. And Butch had made it abundantly clear that he was incapable of such depth of feeling.

Alex let out a long, drawn-out sigh. For the first time in what felt like a long time, she wished she had Amata to talk to. But even her best frie – _ex-best friend_ would be shocked and horrified if she knew what Alex had been up to. Not only for sneaking out of bounds, but for doing it with a Tunnel Snake, and then allowing said Tunnel Snake to kiss and touch her. And then, to make matters worse, actually liking it. Alex's face burned with embarrassment every time she thought of it, which was so often that her father had actually checked her for a fever before heading off to the clinic, and even suggested she take the day off. While the Doctor's permission would be a more than sufficient excuse for her to stay home and hide under her blankets all day, in the end she decided it would be better to get the whole thing over with. She didn't need Butch thinking she was afraid of him, after all.

And so, at eight o'clock, a full hour later than when she would typically have arrived at work, she marched determinedly through the parlor and into the work room. She expected it to be empty, but to her unpleasant surprise Butch was already there, currently preoccupied with sharpening his shears and razors.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted before she could stop herself.

Butch glanced brusquely in her direction with one eyebrow raised. "I work here, remember?"

Humiliated for the umpteenth time, Alex looked away and muttered, "Of course. Sorry. I've just never seen you at work so early is all."

"Yeah, well, even I can surprise you, y'know," he said, his tone unnecessarily harsh, making Alex wince.

"Right," Alex said, ducking her head and making her way to her workbench.

Those were the only words shared between them. Though she made a few meek attempts to talk to him throughout the day, Butch's answers remained short and his eyes remained cold, and eventually she became too timid to pursue it any further. By closing time, Alex was thoroughly relieved that the day was over with, though the brusque way Butch preceded her through the door without so much as a glance in her direction dampened the feeling. At dinner, her family repeatedly gave her strange, curious looks as she kept her head down and merely nudged her food around her plate with her fork, but thankfully they did not ask her any questions. Her grandmother attempted several times to urge her to eat, which Alex was tolerant of, but when a loud whoop of laughter made her glance up, the sight of Butch and his gang cavorting jovially with Susie and Christie was enough to demolish what little appetite she had. Feeling distinctly nauseous, she left the table with a brief explanation that she was going home, bussed her tray, and all but fled the diner.

So this was how it was? They would just go back to the way things were, as if nothing had changed? Well, if that was how he was going to be, that was just fine with her. Why should she care, anyway? All she'd done was stay true to who she was. If Butch couldn't handle that, all that proved was that he wasn't worth her time. A real friend – a real _man_ – would understand. Really, she ought to be thanking him for showing her his true colors now before anything else happened between them. Now she knew he wasn't the kind of friend she needed... or wanted. And besides, there would be others –

Alex stopped short, coming to a halt in an empty corridor. Would there _really_ be others? After she and Amata had gone their separate ways, she'd never imagined that she would find another friend in the Vault. It had been more than a shock that she and Butch DeLoria had cultivated any type of friendship at all, and now that that was ostensibly over... who else was there? She could never see herself palling around with Susie and Christine, and it wasn't like they would welcome her into their midst. And she was about as much a candidate for joining the Tunnel Snakes as Freddie. There was always her cousin Jonas, of course, even if he was several years older than her, but he was almost always busy working with her father. The more she thought it over, the more the nausea came back. Was she truly _alone_? The thought was so terrifying that her feet immediately took to walking again, without any heed of which direction they were going. Trapped in this Vault with the constant presence of other people, the idea that she could ever feel alone was ludicrous, but the feeling seemed to envelop her, leaving her even colder than usual.

When Alex next surveyed her surroundings, she was surprised to find herself in the Atrium, opposite the long hallway that led toward the Vault exit, the same path Butch had lead her down only a few weeks ago. Down that way was her escape... her freedom. Once on the other side, she could forget about all the stupid drama she had to live with in this place. Alex gave a quick shake of her head. No, that wasn't true. If she left without her father, she wouldn't never be truly free. She would never be able to forget.

Just as she was about the turn and leave, Alex glanced upward at the circular window overlooking the Atrium, and received a jolt when she saw Alphonse Almodovar standing just within, staring straight at her. His lips were drawn into a tight, thin line, and there was a hard coldness in his eyes that adopted whenever he happened to look upon her. She stood stock still for several moments, staring back, trying to discern if he'd guessed what she'd just been thinking moments before, but before she knew one way or the other, he turned his back on her and disappeared.

* * *

James Foster removed his glasses and rubbed his worn eyes. He'd been up late into the previous night and slept poorly for only a few hours, and though it was barely eleven o'clock in the morning, his eyes were already drooping. He'd briefly considered a mid-afternoon nap, but his mind was too preoccupied to allow him rest.

There was something wrong with his daughter; that much was blatantly obvious in her every word and expression. Just two days ago she'd been smiling and carefree, and now... now it was as though the happy disposition she had regained over the past weeks had crumbled away, leaving her sullen and downcast. James had stayed home the night before, his concern for his daughter overwhelming his desire to pursue his experiments, but Alex had been unwilling to open up to him; she'd speak to him about anything but what was actually bothering her.

So James was left to speculate on his own what could have happened. Perhaps it was something to do with work? Alex had always been very dedicated and serious about her work, perhaps a little too serious, and had occasionally become moody and withdrawn if something wasn't going the way she wanted. While it was possible that the answer was that simple, James somehow doubted it. And if it wasn't work related, that only left her friends and family. It wasn't impossible so much as highly unlikely that it was the latter, and that only left one answer. Had his daughter and Amata had another falling out of some kind? Come to think of it, Alex had told him she was going to spend time with Amata just the night before last, which suited the timing perfectly. Yes, that seemed the most likely, if undesirable option. That begged the question as to what might have occurred between them, but as hard as he tried to come up with an answer, none came to him.

With another glance at the clock, James got to his feet and left the clinic, sparing only a brief word for Jonas that he would be back shortly. The younger man was in the middle of his weekly counsel session with Mrs. DeLoria for her alcoholism, but he briefly nodded in understanding. James smiled grimly to himself as he headed off down the hall. Jonas was as excellent an assistant and apprentice as he could ask for aside from his own daughter; he was intelligent and compassionate enough to become a full-fledged physician himself one day, but he despaired at the boy's blind idealism. Eventually he would learn that you can't help everyone, especially if they are bent on their own destruction, and James only hoped his nephew's passion for his career would outlive that realization.

Before long, James found himself sitting across a small coffee table staring into the wizened eyes of his pretend mother-in-law. The mug of steaming coffee that she'd served him without a word of question was cradled in his smooth hands, and for a moment he simply breathed in the pungent aroma, wondering just when this total stranger of no blood relation to his beloved Catherine had become his sole confidant. At the moment, Mrs. Palmer sat watching him with a vague smile on her weathered lips, as though she would sit there waiting with absolute patience until he told her the reason for his visit.

Finally, when he'd had a swig of his coffee and could contain his concern no longer, he set down his mug and spoke. "I'm worried about Alex."

"Yes, I know," Mrs. Palmer said quietly, and then fell silent again, and before he knew it, all James's concerns were pouring from him like water from a faucet.

"You see it too, don't you?" he asked. "She was just starting to come 'round. I had hoped she would grow into her role in the Vault, that she would find some happiness in it, but just when she's starting to look up, something cast her right down again. I'm at a loss as to what. I've been thinking that perhaps she had some type of fallout with Amata again, but she won't talk about it."

Lucy Mae smiled nostalgically. "Young girls can be that way with their fathers."

"Alex has always been able to come to me with anything," James said, sounding put-out.

His mother-in-law shrugged delicately. "She's growing up," she said simply. "Whatever trouble she's having, she's trying to cope with it by herself. It's only natural as children grow up to seek their own independence."

James knew this of course. He was a psychiatrist as well as a physician. He'd explained to more than one parent the important role of independence in a growing child. But Alex was hardly a child anymore; she was in her teens, almost an adult. She'd never shown any reservation when it came to telling him what was on her mind; indeed, he'd grown so comfortable with her candor that her bouts of aloofness were becoming increasingly unsettling.

"If you're really so concerned," Lucy Mae went on, "you might consider asking Amata if anything is amiss."

The idea immediately appealed to him, but asking Amata when his own daughter wouldn't speak to him felt tantamount to meddling, something he'd never before felt the need to do. "Oh, I don't know about that," James said hesitantly.

"You don't need to it as a father," his mother-in-law said.

"You want me to ask about Alex under professional pretenses?" James asked incredulously.

"It needn't be a pretense. You have just as much right to be concerned about her as her doctor as you do her father. If you think something is truly wrong in her life, it is your role be there to help her."

James thought these words over again and again as he took the long route back to the clinic. He thought it a thin line between meddling and professional concern, but he couldn't deny that his mother-in-law had a genuine point. If he asked Amata just the right questions, his daughter never need know that he'd inquired about her personal life. And if he uncovered what ever it might be that was causing her such distress, he might be of better help to her.

As much as it bothered him, by the time the afternoon hours rolled around, he knew he'd decided his course.

* * *

Amata Almodovar entered the frigid sterility of clinic later that day feeling both confused and curious. It had to be the first time in her memory that the Doc had specifically requested her presence here, and the fact that he had sent Jonas to retrieve her, the one person who wouldn't report him to her father, had her mind spinning with different ideas for why he needed to see her privately.

The clinic turned out to be empty, so she crossed the room and knocked respectfully on the door leading to the office. Only a few seconds passed before it opened, and the kindly face of Doctor Foster greeted her with a warm, if not entirely genuine, smile.

"Miss Almodovar, please come in," he said kindly, stepping aside to allow her room to pass. Amata entered and took the seat across from the Doctor's desk. He sat across from her, and she couldn't help note how tired and stressed he appeared, even through his kindly smile. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Of course," Amata said, watching him carefully. "Though I have to admit, I'm a little confused that you would ask me to come without my father. Is something the matter?"

"What? No... no," James said, placing the tips of his fingers together and resting his chin on them as he pulled on his 'doctor' mask. "I just want to check up on you. I only have a few questions, nothing medically related. Students who have passed the G.O.A.T. often have a hard time adjusting, and I've been taking the time to have a brief chat with each student and find out how their coping."

"Oh, okay," Amata said, a little surprised but willing to accept his explanation. "Well, no complaints here. I mean, I've been supervising the night shift more and more recently and could do with a bit more sleep, but other than that my training has been going very well."

"I see," James, said, jotting down some notes on his clipboard. "Has this had any negative impact on your schooling?"

"Not really," Amata said. "I go to class in the morning, take a nap after lunch, then study during the afternoon until it's time for me to report to the Shift Supervisor."

"And does all this work leave much time for a social life?" James asked gently, jotting down more notes.

Amata almost snorted aloud. "I suppose I don't have much of a social life to begin with. Alex was the only one I ever –" She fell abruptly silent.

"Is everything all right with you and Alex?" James asked, keeping his tone gentle even as he watched her intently.

Amata frowned. If anyone should know the answer to that question, shouldn't Alex's own father? "Well, we haven't spoken."

"Did you two have another fight, perhaps? A misunderstanding? A falling out?"

_Another fight_? The only 'falling out' they'd ever had was just after the G.O.A.T. It didn't exactly qualify as a fight, but they'd definitely been walking separate paths ever since. But the Doc ought to know that, right? But if he did, how could he think they'd had _another_ falling out? Wasn't one enough? "Not exactly. I just miss how we could always talk to each other. The way she was there whenever I needed her. She's been my best friend – my _only_ friend ever since I can remember." Instantly, Amata was hit by a dull pain in her chest, and she realized how much the words rang true. She _missed_ her friend, even though she'd tried so hard not to think about it.

"I know both your schedules take some working around," James said calmly, "but that's nothing to lose a friendship over, is it?"

Completely nonplussed, Amata stared at him in confusion, wondering just what he was talking about. "No, I don't suppose it is," she said carefully.

"I'm pleased you think so," he said with another smile. "I know it can't be easy, and you don't get to see each other as much as you used to, but you know, you're always welcome to spend time with her at our place, if that would help make things easier. Even just spending time together in the mornings might make all the difference."

"I – I don't know," she said slowly. Doctor Foster was speaking as though she and Alex were still friends... like they had been hanging out all this time. "It seems like... like we're on two separate planes of existence sometimes, y'know?"

"Ah, well, this stage of life is always an adjustment," James said. "The step between childhood and adulthood takes some work to overcome, but it's all that much harder without our friends. I think if you reached out to Alex, told her how you feel, you might discover she feels the same way."

"R-right," Amata said. "I think – I think I'll do that."

"I'm pleased to hear it. Now, are there any other concerns you would like to discuss? Is everything good at home?"

"Yes, no concerns there," Amata said, standing from her chair. "Speaking of, I really should go. My shift is almost over, and my dad is expecting me."

"Very well," James said, also getting to his feet.

"Thank you for checking up on me," she said. "Really, it's been nice, being able to let it out like this."

"Think nothing of it," he said, giving her a genuine smile this time. "You're my daughter's best friend, and a resident of this vault. I would be remiss if I didn't look after you."

"Right. Well, I've got to get back to work."

"Of course."

Amata left the office, smiling vaguely, but the moment she was out of the clinic, her lips thinned into a tight line and she marched off toward the Atrium with no intent of returning to work. While her visit with the Doctor had indeed helped bring some things to light, it left more questions than answers, and the only person she had any interest in seeing right now was her 'best friend'.

* * *

Butch caught himself watching Alex out of the corner of his eye for what had to be the hundredth time that day, and he immediately looked away. Sharpening his sheers was a job that required his full attention, especially if he wanted to keep all of his fingers, and besides, he had no business watching the little Daddy's Girl who had no interest in him. She'd made it perfectly clear that she thought he wasn't good enough for her, but try as he might, his attention kept drifting.

How had things deteriorated to this? Just last week they'd shared an easy-going companionship, and now... now you could cut the tension with a knife. She stared determinedly at her sketch-pad, drawing furiously, and as silent as though she were the only person in the room. Would it kill her just to look at him? To show that she was still thinking about him? Couldn't she at least acknowledge his existence? It didn't look like it, and really, Butch couldn't help but think he just might deserve it. One cold-shoulder deserved another, after all. He'd really messed things up after that night in the Restricted Level, but worst of all, he'd taken it a step further and completely ignored her every day since. But really, what did she expect after walking out on him like that? Did he expect he could just turn off his interest in her and pretend that they could still be friends?

He wished he could, but the sting he'd felt when she'd told him he wasn't enough for her had been sharp enough that he'd kept his distance. But now, in spite of everything, he wanted to speak to her again. He found himself concocting plan after half-baked plan of different ways he could approach her. How should he go about it though? Should he just talk to her as though nothing had happened? And why should he even bother? Why did it mean so much to him?

Drumming up his courage, he put down his sharpening kit and slowly meandered over to her. She paid him no mind, but continued working as though he wasn't even there. When he was close enough to see what she was drawing, he immediately jumped on the opportunity to comment on it.

"Impressive," he said softly. She didn't reply, but the stiffening in her posture proved that he had her attention. "Is that a dragon?"

"Unless lizards have suddenly grown wings," she bit out, "yes, it's a dragon."

"It's really... something," he said awkwardly. "Really. I doubt even I could do one that good."

"Right," she said shortly, then fell silent.

Apparently, this was going to be harder than he'd thought. "You drawing that for anyone special?"

"What does it matter?"

"Well, if no one else had laid claim to it, I might like it for myself."

"Well, someone has, so you can just go away now."

Butch grimaced and, after a brief hesitation, decided to just jump right in. "Okay, I know you're mad –"

"Mad? Who's mad?" she said curtly, erasing a stray line with more vigor than was strictly necessary. "_I_ don't have anything to be mad about."

"If you're not mad, then why do you sound like you're ready to take a bite out of me?"

"What makes you think it has anything to do with you?"

"So you are mad?" Butch asked. "But not at me?"

Finally she looked at him, though her face was marred with a scowl. "Maybe. What's it to you, anyway? I thought you weren't talking to me."

"We're – we're friends, aren't we?" he asked.

"We _are_?" Alex asked coldly, not bothering to contain her sarcasm. "Well, this is news to me. _I_ was under the impression that you couldn't be friends with a girl who wouldn't put out."

Butch visibly winced. That was a bit harsh, but he could see how she might think that. "All right, I'll admit it, I've been a bit of a jerk –"

"A bit?"

"All right, a lot," he amended. "And I'm sorry, okay? I know things have been all weird, but –"

"But what?" she snapped, her temper fraying. "What could you possibly say that is going to make this better? You tell me you like me, and you kiss me, and - and - and _do things_ to me - and then say it doesn't mean anything to you. All right, fine, _that_ I can handle. _That_ I can understand. But then when I tell you that's not enough for me, that if I'm going to have that kind of relationship with anyone I want it to mean something, and you ignore me for days. You call that being a friend? Well, I call it being a fucking _asshole_."

Butch was shocked at her language, but wisely chose not to comment on it. "You're right."

"You're damn right I am," she snarled.

"Yes, you are," he said. "I was an ass. But you gotta know that I didn't mean it to come off like that. I was just tryin' to –" He trailed off vaguely, but when Alex glared at him again, he forced himself to plow onward. "I needed time to figure some stuff out, 'kay? And yeah, I was a jerk about it, but can't I make it up to you?"

"You think it's that easy?"

"Easy or not, I want to try."

"Why?"

_Cause I_'_ve missed you_. Butch shook the thought out of his head almost as soon as it'd materialized. He'd never missed anyone in his life, but even though they saw each other every day, it wasn't the same when they weren't talking, or planning some heist, or sneaking off at night to chill for a few hours where no one could find them. But he couldn't tell her that. The Butch-man didn't _miss_ anyone. "Cause you're right. Cause you want better, and you deserve it. I'll give you better."

Alex gave him a long, hard stare, then put her sketchbook down, "Fine. You want to make it up to me? Then tell me exactly why you haven't spoken in days. Why did me telling you 'no' turn you from a friend into a jerk?"

To Alex's surprise, Butch laughed, though the sound was utterly without humor. "Believe it or not, I keep askin' myself that question."

"And?"

"And? And so what if you said no? So what if I don't have what it takes to give you what you need? That shouldn't matter, right? I got girls practically lined up at my bedpost. What difference should it make if one of 'em says no? It shouldn't hurt me one bit."

"I don't see how that helps your case, but sure, if you say so," Alex said primly.

"Exactly," Butch agreed pacing away from her, then back toward her. He stopped in front of her, deciding to just spit out the truth. "Despite all that, I was pissed as all hell, and yeah, it didn't exactly feel good. It was crazy, and all that night, I couldn't figure out why, until suddenly it hit me. Sure, it's only one girl, but this one, she's something else, y'know? She's smart; poindexter smart, but not in the bossy know-it-all kinda way. She says what's on her mind and tells it like it is, straight up as any Tunnel Snake. She's funny, and spunky, she's easy on the eyes and kisses like a devil, and more than anythin', she gets me. Gets what I'm about." Alex, surprised by the path this conversation was taking, remained in her seat as he crouched down in front of her. "No girl gives a damn what I think about 'em, Alex, not one. If any other girl had been with me that night, they'd've deluded themselves into thinking that kiss meant all kinds of bullshit, and I'd've let 'em. But not you. The first girl I really dig is the one that really wants to know how I feel, and I feel like I owe her the truth. So then, like a bastard, I gotta tell her none of it means anythin' to me. Show me the fairness in that."

Alex tried not to let the hurt show in her eyes at hearing the words all over again, but feared she had failed. "Thank you for that... wonderful recap. It's just not enough to be told once that you mean nothing to a guy –"

"Hey, I never said that _you_ meant nothin' –"

"You as good as said it."

Butch scowled at her. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said? How could you mean nothin', and be able to make me feel that low. You're different. You're better than any of them. You gotta know that, right?"

"All I know is that when you kissed me, it meant nothing to you," Alex said, glaring at him. "It's the same thing, Butch. And you know what, it didn't exactly feel good for me either. If I mean anything to you, so did that kiss, and maybe you don't know yourself as well as you think you do. And if the kiss meant nothing, then don't try to make something out of it. But moreover, don't take it out on me because you have the emotional capacity of an egg cup."

For the first time, Butch looked sheepish. "I know, I know. You didn't deserve that, okay? But you should know that even if it'll be hard being 'just friends', I'd rather be that than nothin' at all."

Alex remained silent for several moments, but before she could reply, the door leading into the parlor slid open and they both looked up, shocked to see Amata standing in the opening, looking equally stunned at the spectacle before her.

"Amata!" Alex said, jumping to her feet and nearly knocking Butch on his backside. "What are you doing here?"

Amata stood there, her eyes flashing from Butch to Alex and becoming more suspicious by the moment. "I came to talk," she said cautiously. "Or, more specifically, I came to ask you why your dad thinks _we_'_re_ talking. He seems to be under the impression that we've had another falling out, even though we haven't spoken in months."

Struck speechless, Alex floundered for something she could say, but nothing came to her in the way of a viable excuse. "I – I um –"

"I think I'll give you two some space," Butch interrupted, standing up again. "I'll wait out in the parlor if you – er – if ya need anything."

He quickly shuffled out, leaving Amata and Alex quite alone.

"Well?" Amata said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at Alex. "What's this about? Your dad brought me to his office to see how I was adjusting to my new routine, and then suddenly we're talking about how you and I don't see enough of each other. I'm getting the idea that he thinks we've been hanging out all this time, even though we haven't."

"I know he does," Alex said, looking abashed. "I meant to tell him... you know... eventually. It seemed so harmless at the time –"

"It seemed harmless to lie to your dad?" Amata asked archly. "Have you changed so much?"

"No," Alex denied quickly. Too quickly. "The last time I saw you, he seemed to think we'd patched things up. He'd been so worried about me, and it made him so happy to think we were still friends, I just didn't want to tell him the truth. I didn't mean for it to go on like this, but then – I just haven't found a way to tell him the truth."

To her relief, Amata's posture softened, and she looked at Alex with a hint of genuine concern. "What is the truth?" she asked earnestly. "What is it you're hiding from him? Where are you when he thinks you're with me?"

For the first time in a good while, Alex was struck by just how well Amata knew her, and couldn't stop the truth from spilling out of her. "Well... when my dad thinks I'm with you... I go off and..."

"Hang out with Butch?" Amata asked incredulously.

Alex grimaced. "How could you tell?"

Amata gave her a grim smile. "Well, it's not everyday I see Butch kneeling at your feet, looking at you like _that_."

Alex flushed. "Like what?"

"I don't know... not like a jerk?" Amata shrugged. "I guess you can hang out with whoever you want, but really, I though you'd have better taste than that –"

"Well, excuse me, but aside from you, it's not like the pickings are all that great," Alex said defensively.

"True as that may be... why Butch?" Amata asked, not bothering to hide her disgust. "He's a Tunnel Snake, a player, and an immature asshole."

Alex sighed and plopped down in her seat. To her surprise, Amata took Butch's chair and watched her with genuine curiosity.

"I think you just listed his good qualities," she said miserably.

"How could he be worse?" Amata asked.

Alex hesitated, for some reason not wanting to talk ill about Butch and the things she suspected he and his gang got up to. "Well, it's like you said, he's an asshole. But it's only worse when he's around Wally and Paul."

"So you've been hanging around all three of them?"

"Not exactly," Alex said. "I had a little bit a run in with them about a week ago, but believe it or not, Butch helped me out of it."

"Huh," Amata said, looking completely stunned. "I never would have thought... I mean, who knew he had it in him?"

"Exactly," Alex said. "And since we work together and all, he's not so much of an ass. He's actually fun to be around sometimes."

Amata chuckled at that, and Alex found herself smiling sheepishly.

"I'm shocked. Really. I though that was all Butch knew how to be."

"Yeah, me too," Alex agreed. "But one day we just starting talking... and a few times he came down to the Reactor Level and we'd take turns with my BB gun... Really, he's not so bad, underneath it all."

"Hmmm," Amata hummed. "Who'd have believed Butch had a sense of decency in him?"

Again, Alex flushed, and though she didn't intend to say anything, Amata saw it.

"What?" she asked. "Hasn't he been decent?"

"Well, for the most part," Alex said. "We had a – well, I guess you could call it a fight. He wasn't talking to me for a few days. I was really angry at him."

"That explains your dad," Amata said shrewdly. "He must have thought you were mad at me."

"It seems so," Alex agreed.

"If it made you that mad," Amata said slowly, "you must really like him."

Alex could feel her face turning bright red, which, of course, Amata immediately noticed.

"You _like_ him, like him?" she said, her eyebrows shooting up in astonishment.

"No!" she hastily denied, but the denial sounded false even to her own ears, and if Amata's skeptical smile was any indication, she didn't believe it either. "Well," Alex started, "maybe a little. He's a different person under that Tunnel Snake exterior than he'd like everyone to think. And he's the first guy in my life – well, the first one I'm not related to – and he, um – well, I, um – I let him kiss me," she finished quickly, but stopping herself from revealing more.

"Ugh... you've got to be kidding me," Amata moaned, resting her head in her palm as she watched Alex shaking her head.

"I almost wish I were," she said.

For what seemed like a full minute, Amata stared at her in stunned silence, though what was going on in her mind, Alex had no idea, until finally she said, "What happened?"

"What – ? What do you mean?" Alex asked.

"If you got in a fight, I assume it was over that."

Further embarrassed, Alex slowly nodded. "He said it didn't mean anything to him."

"He – !"

"I asked him!" Alex quickly interrupted. "It was my fault. I asked him, and he told me the truth. I'm not angry about that. I'm glad he told me the truth. But that's not what caused the fight. When I told him a meaningless fling isn't enough for me, he just stopped talking to me." Her own hurt and irritation flared up as she remembered the past few days. "No warning. No explanation. Nothing. He just went back to being the same old asshole we all know and love to hate."

"Then what was happening when I came in?" Amata asked after another prolonged silence. "It looked like he was talking to you then."

Alex nodded. "Butch wants me to forgive him."

"He actually said that?" Amata asked, visibly astounded. "In those words?"

"More or less," Alex said, blushing now.

Amata let out a low whistle. "This is almost too much to believe. Are you sure we're talking about the same Butch?"

They both laughed and that, and to Alex's surprise, it felt completely natural, if a little bittersweet. For the first time in months, everything felt... normal. It was as though no time had passed. They were just two friends, gossiping together like they'd been doing their whole lives, even if it was about Butch. In truth, it felt wonderful. It was a relief to have someone to talk to again.

"Do you think you will?"

"Will what?" Alex asked, snapping out of her reverie.

"Forgive him."

Alex shrugged. "I don't know. He said he only acted that way because he actually... y'know, _likes_ me, in a way he doesn't like Christie or Susie or anyone else... He says it didn't exactly feel good when I rejected him." The words sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. "I'm not sure what to make of that. If I believe him, then I have to wonder, can two people just be friends, when they feel something more than friendship for each other?"

"That I don't know," Amata said. "I've never exactly had the opportunity to try it myself."

Alex sighed. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

"I don't know... maybe that's just what happens when we grow up?" Amata said sadly. "Like how things got complicated between us."

"Yeah," Alex said sadly, looking down at the shiny black toes of her boots. "It sucks."

"I think so too," Amata said. "But if it sucks so much, why can't we still be friends. Have things really changed that much?"

"I – I don't know," Alex said. "Something I think they have, but then – then I need someone to talk to, and you're not there, and I wonder why things had to change at all."

"They don't," Amata said. "I told you I'd still be your friend, you know. If you needed me, all you have to do is say something."

Alex didn't say anything to that, and Amata sighed despondently. "Anyway, I guess I'll go. I just wanted to say that I miss having you around, and that I didn't say anything to your dad, okay? I don't think you should have lied to him in the first place, but it's up to you to tell him the truth."

Alex smiled grimly. "Thanks. I'll tell him. I just – I don't want to let him down."

Amata nodded in understanding. "I think the real let down will be when he finds out about Butch."

Alex winced. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that for a while. It's not like we're flaunting our unconventional friendship or anything."

"So you're going to forgive him?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess I am. Butch isn't the type to ask for forgiveness. If he does ask, he must want it really bad. We'll just have to see what happens."

Amata nodded again, her sadness deepening. "I just wish you could forgive me as easily."

Alex's head snapped up. "You didn't do anything."

"I made Supervisor while you'll always be stuck doing... this," Amata said, looking around the tiny room.

"That isn't your fault," Alex said.

"I know... but apart of me feels like I'd rather be doing any other job, even if it meant being a garbage burner, so long as it meant I still had my best friend."

She got to her feet then, and Alex rose too, wanting to say something, but unable to force the words out of her mouth. Did it really matter so much that Amata had made Supervisor? Hadn't this stood between them long enough? Yes – and no. There would always be this wall of social standing between them. The sense of being a team was lost... How could a friendship survive that?

"I'll see you around, I guess," Amata muttered.

When she was gone, Alex stood alone in the workshop, her heart aching and the rare feeling of moisture in her eyes. She'd tried so hard not to think about her lost friendship, but a tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. She slammed them both shut, but she couldn't block out the voice in her head ridiculed her for bringing this upon herself. Why couldn't she just put everything behind her? Move on with life? Resume her relationship with her best friend as easily as she could forgive Butch? It – it just wasn't fair.

As she stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as though trying to hold herself together, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, a pair of strong arms suddenly closed around her and her face was pressed against a hard chest. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was. She'd recognize that scent anywhere, and in spite of everything, she didn't struggle to get away from him. One friend had replaced another, and though Butch was no Amata, though he was occasionally a jerk and had the power to make her feel small and miserable, he also made her feel special and – and alive.

Little by little the pain, and the loneliness, ebbed away, and as her arms slowly loosened their grip around her chest, they encircled around him instead, until she was holding onto him like she'd never held anyone in her life. She felt good here. Even if that meant nothing to Butch, it meant everything to her. Right now, that was good enough.

* * *

Author's Note: If I were a child, you're reviews would be my candy. But please remember, for me, it's not just about the praise, nice as that is. I like to know that you've enjoyed this and that all my efforts have made you laugh, or cry, or scream in frustration... you know, whatever happens. And more than that, I need to know when I've messed up somewhere, because how else will I learn? Don't worry, I can take criticism. All that matters is that my writing keeps improving.


	13. Fork, Bet, and Mystery

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! Really, I'm over here doing my little happy dance. I know it took me a while to get this chapter out, but in return I made it nice and long, so here it is. I actually had to do a little research for this one, and I must say, I didn't realize how appropriate the last name was that I picked for Alex and her father until I did this research. You'll see what I mean. Please enjoy, and share your enjoyment with me.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Fork, Bet, and Mystery

* * *

Several weeks passed and everything had more or less returned to normal for Alex... or at least, as normal as could be. She worked diligently six days a week, ate dinner with her little family, and every night they could, she and Butch snuck off together down to the Restricted Level. By the second week, she'd done and decided that drinking and lazing about so often didn't sit well with her, and after that she spent many of their excursions talking Butch into leaving the liquor on the shelves and exploring the dark tunnels with her.

"What do we need to go poking around for?" he asked the first time she suggested it. "We got everything we need right here."

"I thought you were a Tunnel Snake?" Alex threw back, her hands planted stubbornly on her hips. "That's no kind of attitude for some big, bad gang leader who wants to leave the vault someday. The world is made to be explored, even if it's only this little portion of it. Who knows what we'll find."

"And if we find trouble?" Butch asked archly.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little trouble?"

"No... the Butch-man ain't scared of nothin'. But I was thinking... y'know, the radroaches gotta be coming in from somewhere."

"Oooooh," Alex said exaggeratedly. "Radroaches. I see. Y'know, I remember when I killed my first radroach. I was – what? – just ten years old. There was nothin' to it." When Butch looked skeptical, she sighed and shrugged. "Well, if you're too _chicken_ you can stay safe and sound right here. I'll be back later."

Butch didn't put up any protest and quickly followed Alex as she sauntered out the door.

Thus far, their excavation of the abandoned labs and living quarters had yielded very little, though Alex figured this was probably due to the fact that, one, they couldn't risk sneaking down there every night, and when they did, they could only stay for a few hours, and second, being unable to activate the lighting system, they were limited to what light could be shed from the flashlights mounted on their Pip-Boys. They did manage to find a stack of old records and added them to the collection inside the jukebox, and Alex had unearthed several old fashioned paper-and-print books, and had even found a complete chess set under an empty dresser. But none of this was what she was expecting. When she'd first set out to search through the Restricted Level, she'd imagined a veritable trove of forgotten treasures, but it seemed to her that when the level had been closed off, most people had taken their possessions with them. What little was left already seemed to be stored in Butch's sanctuary.

Alex was ready to give up on their sixth excavation when she stumbled across a door that she couldn't lift on her own. When she called Butch over to help her, they managed to force it upward, but the creaking and screeching it emitted echoed horribly up and down the deserted corridors.

"I think this will be enough to wake the whole vault," Alex said worriedly, straining under the door.

"It must be rusted," Butch grunted as he forced it up another foot. "Probably hasn't been used in a long time."

"Must be something good behind it," Alex all but prayed. When at last the door was open, they took a step back and flashed the lights of their Pip-Boys into the corridor. It was so dark, however, that their lights barely pierced the shadows, and Alex inched forward a few feet, keeping her hand along the wall, until she went to take another step and her foot met... nothing. And it was then that she noticed the ceiling over them was sloping downward.

"It's a stairwell!" she said, looking back at Butch over her shoulder. "D'you think there's _another_ level to this place?"

Butch shrugged. "Would make sense," he said. "More living quarters and stuff."

"Well, lets go," she said excitedly, already feeling her way down the steps. "Maybe we'll find what I'm looking for."

"What _are_ you looking for?" Butch asked, reluctantly following along behind her.

"I don't know," Alex said. "But I'll know it when I find it."

She heard Butch snort behind her, but she kept moving forward, feeling her way down the steps until finally the floor leveled out. Almost instantly, she began to shiver as the temperature dropped another twenty degrees. "It's freezing down here," she murmured. "Like being in a tomb."

"Don't say that," Butch said, and she could hear the grimace in his voice. "For all we know, this is where the Overseer hides his skeletons."

It was Alex's turn to snort. "Don't be ridiculous. Surely he wouldn't go so far as to actually have someone murdered and think he could hide it."

Butch didn't say anything, and that sent another shiver up Alex's spine. "Maybe we should find a way to light the place up. You know, off the grid."

"What d'you got in mind? Christmas lights?" Butch asked sarcastically.

"Not a bad idea," Alex said thoughtfully. When she saw Butch giving a look of disbelief, she expanded. "Not feasible, of course. I doubt we could scrounge up enough strings of lights in this whole vault to light up this level, but I was thinking something that sheds a lot a light, that's mobile... with either a large battery or a small generator to keep it lit for a long period of time..."

"Yeah, well, let's get outta here until we come up with somethin'," Butch said, already leading her back up the stairs.

Back in the sanctum, Butch poured himself a stiff drink while Alex perched herself on the pale green couch, looking thoughtfully into the tumbler as he filled it with amber-colored liquid.

"What's eating you?" Butch asked as he replaced the lid on the bottle and sat back into the cushions.

"Nothing," Alex said vaguely. Then, after a pause, "Well, not really. I was wondering... about the vault."

"What about it?" Butch asked carelessly, clearly more interested in getting comfortable as he kicked his feet up on the table.

"Well, I was just thinking... it's been over 200 years since the vault was closed, right?"

"I guess so," Butch said, taking her word for it.

"So... where did all the people go?"

The room became abruptly silent as the question left her lips, and Butch looked at her in mute surprise.

"Think about it," Alex went on, her voice suddenly gaining an edge of suspicion. "There were once enough people to fill up four levels... for all we know, there could be more... But in two centuries, the population has dwindled down to barely a handful. Where did everyone go?"

Butch tried to shrug, but his face looked unusually pensive. "Some died off... others probably escaped."

"They can't all have left," Alex said. "Even if some _did_ manage to escape, there should still be more of us than there are. And why doesn't anyone acknowledge that these levels exist? Even when my dad told me about it, he made it seem like the whole thing was some kind of big secret."

"You told your dad about this place?" Butch asked sharply, suddenly looking alarmed.

"A long time ago," Alex corrected hastily. "Y'know, when I was a kid. I wandered off and took a wrong turn... he told me to stay away from the door that leads down here, and when I asked him why, he told me about these levels, and how we're not supposed to go near them."

"Oh... okay," he said, leaning back again, clearly relieved. "Maybe it's not such a secret, if your dad knows about it."

"Sometimes I think he knows more about things than he lets on," she said. "I doubt these levels are common knowledge, or you wouldn't have been able to keep this little sanctum a secret for very long. Someone would stumble across it sooner or later."

"Maybe everyone else is too afraid to break the rules and go where they want," Butch said, but when Alex remained quiet, he took several more swigs of his cocktail, then said, "So what are you getting at?"

Alex shook her head. "I don't know. I just can't help but think some of the picture is missing. A thousand people came to live in the vault two hundred years ago, and now there is less than a hundred. The living quarters down in this level are doubled-up with multiple bunks crammed into each room, yet upstairs, we each have out own family apartments with private quarters. And I think the fourth level was sealed before this one, because the door leading down from here was almost rusted shut, like it hadn't been used in a long time. It's like... like it's all supposed to mean something, but I can't figure out what."

Alex looked at Butch, but he didn't seem nearly as concerned about the puzzle as she did. Indeed, he was currently more concerned with pouring himself another drink.

"You think too much," he said blithely, his words already slurring. "Have a drink and relax. There's nothing you can do about it now. Whatever happened to those people is old news, and I doubt anyone upstairs is gonna want to talk about it. Why are you so worried, anyway?"

"I'm not worried... I'm just... curious."

"Too curious for anyone's good," Butch muttered.

Alex went still, the puzzle temporarily wiped from her mind, and she looked slowly at Butch, barely believing what she'd heard.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, keeping her voice as low and steady as she could.

Butch looked up at her then, giving her his full attention since they'd made it back to the sanctum, and all at once he seemed to realize what he'd said.

"I didn't mean for that to come out that way," he said, his words slurring still, but sounding vaguely apologetic.

"Sure sounded like you did," Alex said, sitting up straighter as she watched him coldly. "And excuse me for wanting to know the hows and whys of things."

"Well, I hate to break it to you Poindexter, but there are some questions that are better left unasked," he said, sounding a bit more heated. "Most of the time you're not going to like the answer, so why go digging for it?"

"Just cause I don't like the answer doesn't mean I should bury my head in the sand."

"And what does having all the answers get you?" Butch asked. "Did you ever stop to think you might be better off with your head in the sand?"

"So I should just stay ignorant, is that what you're saying? Pretend that all is right in Wonderland and swallow whatever 'truth' is spoon-fed into my unresisting mouth?" she asked angrily.

"You know that's not what I mean," Butch growled irritably. "You know I don't buy that propaganda shit any more than you do."

"Then what? I should just pretend I believe it and never actively question it? I should go with what everyone else is saying and doing? Become just like Susie Mack, the model vault citizen with the perfect hair and the spotless reputation, idolized by all?"

"That not what I think and you know it," Butch snapped.

"How am I supposed to know what you think?" she asked, getting to her feet. "You tell me you like me the way I am one day, and now you're practically telling me to be something I'm not."

"I'm not... you're knocking this way out of the - I don't want you to be anyone but you, all right? I didn't mean anything when I said that. I just think some day you're going to ask the wrong question and the answer is going to be more than you can handle."

Alex glared at him silently for a moment, then grudgingly sat down. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and said, "Maybe you're right. In fact, you most likely are. But still, since when do you start offering words of caution, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be Mr. Down-with-the-System and all that?"

Butch shrugged. "You could say I... understand people like the Overseer. Sure, I'll make this _my_ vault and tell him where he can shove that rule-book of his, but I never put it past the guy to throw away a commodity when it's become more trouble than it's worth."

"A... a commodity?" Alex asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "How are you the Overseer's commodity?"

Butch suddenly flushed looking extremely self-conscious, as though he'd said too much. "I didn't mean it literally," Butch said quickly. "Look... it's getting late. We should get back."

Alex wanted to push the topic further, but decided to heed his earlier advice for now and kept her questions to herself. Instead she helped Butch turn off the lamps and followed him out of their own little world and back to the vault above.

* * *

When Alex walked into work the next morning, more than an hour late, she knew she looked like she hadn't slept a wink the night before. Her hair was in bushy disarray, and her eyes itched with tiredness.

In truth, she hadn't slept much, and it was no mystery as to why. All night she'd pondered the words Butch had let slip the night before, and spent hours wondering exactly _how_ he could be a 'commodity' to the Overseer. Though her mind had spun around and around in circles looking for answers, in the end she'd thought of none and fallen into a fitful sleep, plagued by frightening dreams of Butch with a collar around his throat, attacking hundreds of faceless people at the Overseer's command, and but instead of being torn to shreds, the people simply vanished into vapor and smoke.

"Hey baby, a little behind today, aren't ya?" Butch asked as she dragged her feet across the floor of the workshop.

Alex grumbled in his direction as she plopped into her chair, clutching her mug of coffee close, as though the very fumes steaming off the surface could revive her if she breathed them in deeply enough. When she looked at Butch, he was grinning at the very sight of her, and she scowled at him.

"Aren't you do for a hangover or something?" she asked.

His grin widened. "Nah, I didn't drink nearly enough. When you're a seasoned boozer like me, it takes more than a few shots to put you down for the count."

Alex grumbled again, and scowled even deeper when she heard Butch chuckle.

A few hours later, after finishing off her coffee and getting some work under her belt, she felt more like herself again and threw herself into creating new tattoo designs in the hope of forgetting the morbid dreams from the night before. They didn't mean anything, after all, and even if Butch was a 'commodity' for the Overseer in some way, it wasn't like he was erasing people from the face of the vault. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn't anything Butch couldn't handle, so why should she be so worried about it? Besides, she had her own hands full with trying to puzzle out the discovery she'd made the night before. Perhaps once she'd made some kind of mobile light source, she'd be able to explore the fourth level and find some clues as to what had happened down there. And in the meantime, she'd try to get her hands on some of the records holding information about the vault's history. Surely they kept records of year-to-year population along with everything else? She couldn't imagine an Overseer, be it Alphonse Almodovar or any of his predecessors, not keeping detailed records about population rises and drops, especially with their numbered resources and complete isolation from the outside world.

A gentle tug on her scalp pulled Alex out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Butch standing over her, holding a lock of her inky-black hair between his fingertips.

"It's different," he said when he realized he had her attention.

Alex blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Butch looked into her eyes. "I remember, you always kept it sleek and wavy. Ever since I met you."

Now Alex was truly startled. "You noticed?" she blurted.

Butch scowled and flushed a little. "Well – yeah, I noticed. My desk was right behind yours for eleven years, y'know. I had to notice sooner or later."

Alex found his sudden embarrassment very peculiar indeed, and momentarily brushed her previous concerns aside.

"But like I was sayin'," Butch went on, "it's different now."

Alex tried to shrug indifferently, but now felt a little sheepish herself. While she washed her hair regularly, the most she did anymore was run a brush through it before tying it loosely at the nape of her neck. It hung past her waist in a heavy mass of fluffy, manageless waves that she made no effort to tame, and without her usual care, it had become rather dull and lifeless.

"Yeah, so what?" she said. "I don't take as much time anymore to look after it. It's not like I spend a lot of time in the common room or the diner, where everyone would notice, and it's not like anyone's looking anyway."

"So what?" Butch said, echoing her.

Alex tried to shrug indifferently. "I don't have the time to bother with it."

Butch went silent for a minute, but when Alex was about to turn back toward him and ask him to release her hair, she found that he had taken her sketchbook and, with her hand enveloped by his, he was gently pulling her up and out of her seat to guided her to his side of the parlor.

"What are you doing?" she asked a Butch sat in her in the chair with the low sink behind it.

"If you didn't have the time, baby, all you had to do was say so," he said, resuming his usual arrogance. "You happen to be working alongside the Butch-man, hairstylist extraordinaire."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to be called a barber?"

Butch grinned as he ducked back into the workshop to grab his tools. "However you want to say it, my work never fails to please."

Alex sat there uncomfortably until he came back, and then said, "You know, this isn't really necessary. It's almost time for lunch, you don't need to stay when my hair is just fine the way it is –"

Butch cut her off as he clipped her hair up out of the way and tied a full-length cape around her delicate throat; it dwarfed her, hanging well past her knees until it swept the floor. "Between the two of us, I think I'm the expert on hair, wouldn't you agree?" he said reassuringly, and she watched as he removed the glove that connected to his Pip-Boy and set it aside. "I don't mind working a little overtime. Consider it payback for the sweet tat you did for me weeks ago."

Alex was at a loss for further argument as Butch tilted her head back, removed the clip, and piled her hair into the sink. The base of her head was cradled comfortably by a padded groove that had obviously been built into the sink for this purpose, and she gradually allowed herself to sink into the chair, staring up at him as he turned the water on. She felt strangely vulnerable in this position, but the moment his hands began to work through her hair, first saturating it with water, she felt her limbs go languid and limp, as though she'd never move from this spot.

Before long Butch turned off the faucet and began to lather shampoo between his hands. "Just close your eyes and relax," he said quietly when he noticed her watching him. "That's the point of having your hair done," he insisted. Alex looked at him skeptically for a moment, but the first touch of his fingers lacing through her hair sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. No one had ever washed her hair for as far back as she could remember, and Alex felt for the first time that she had missed out as her body seemed to melt into the chair and a small sigh escaped her lips. She thought she heard a quiet chuckle, but couldn't be certain, and with the tension draining out of her, she couldn't find the strength to open her eyes and glare at him just in case. When he began to scrub at her scalp in soothing, circular motions, she forgot her usual reserve and whispered, "Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing hands?"

"Only all the time, baby," he said, and Alex could feel herself flushed deeply at the heavily implied double-entendre. She was certain she heard him chuckle this time.

"I though you'd have heard of my reputation before now?"

"Oh, right, cause that's so me, always ready to believe idle gossip," she sniped lazily, too comfortable to get worked up. "If I believed half of the things I've heard about you, I might actually think you're some kind of Lothario, preying on weak, sex-starved females who are just too enamored with you to resist."

"You seem to resist easily enough," Butch pointed out unhappily.

Alex smiled smugly, her eyes still closed. "I'm not weak."

They remained silent as he finished washing and conditioning her hair, and when he'd rinsed all the product out and swiveled the chair in front of the mirror, she watched as he gently combed the tangles from her hair, unusually focused as he plied his trade. When he retrieved a set of sheers from his kit, however, she sat up, alarmed.

"Don't worry," he soothed. "I'm just going to give it a little trim. Nothing too much."

"You'd better not," she said. "I don't want to walk out of here looking like Christine."

"Fair enough," Butch said, grinning.

Alex sat back again, slowly, and watched cautiously as he sheared a full inch from the ends of her hair. As more and more hair clippings fell to the floor, she allowed herself to relax again, once again confident in his handling of her tresses. When he was finished, he smoothed a foamy product through her hair, then took a cordless blow-drier from his kit. Alex closed her eyes as he finished up, first drying her hair, then brushing it gently once more to smooth away any imperfections.

"Done," he said gently, his voice oddly close to her ear.

Alex opened her eyes to look at her reflection, and saw that Butch had knelt down close to her, his face hovering close to her own in the mirror. Alex flushed a bit at his sudden proximity, and for a moment all she could do was stare into his eyes through the mirror. They were unbearably close, she could feel the heat that radiated off him, and now knowing exactly what kind of heat he could cause inside of her, she couldn't ignore the stab of desire to reach out and close the space between them. More to distracted herself than anything, she closely examined his handiwork, and found herself more than pleased with the results. Her hair was sleek and smooth once more, practically glowing with health and vitality. When Butch to removed the cape and allowed her to stand, the natural waves seemed to flow in perfect order with her small curves, complimenting her face as well as her form.

"It's perfect," she said sincerely, pulling the mass of hair over one shoulder; the strands were baby-soft, and she smiled in genuine pleasure.

"Who says you have to be Susie Mack to have perfect hair?" Butch teased with a smirk.

Alex grinned at him, but before she could reply, the door to their parlor opened, and in the mirror Alex saw Tom Holden materialize in the entryway.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think you'd be... busy." The last word came out rather slowly, and Alex saw him watching her in the mirror. Flushing for no discernible reason, she turned about and smiled in welcome.

"Hi, Tom," she said. "I just finished, actually. What is it you need?"

"I had an appointment this afternoon, but I was hoping you might be able to move it up to now. If it's not an inconvenience, of course."

"Not at all," Alex said, scurrying over to her pile of designs and rifling through them. "Come in, sit down, and I'll find it."

Tom gave her a curious look, but did as she suggested, taking his seat on the padded high-bench and watching her until she found the drawing she was looking for.

"This one, right?" she asked, handing him the paper.

Alex waited patiently while he looked over the design, a perfect replica of the Holden family coat of arms in red and white, with words "_Nec temere nec temide_" plainly inscribed on a banner above it.

"It's just how I want it," Tom said with approval, handing the design back to her.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, did you still want it on your back?"

Tom nodded, and Alex left him to prepare himself while she transferred the design onto paper with the slow-drying ink. She'd barely gotten started when Butch joined her in the workshop, apparently cleaning up the mess that had accumulated as he'd trimmed her hair.

"Bit of a nancy-boy, isn't he?"

"What?" Alex asked, only half listening as she focused on the drawing.

"That Holden kid."

Alex scoffed. "He's older than we are, y'know. How does that make him a kid?"

"I don't like him," Butch said, ignoring the question.

"Do you even know him?" Alex asked.

"Don't need to. I know his type."

"Uh huh," Alex said, glancing up briefly. "And what type is that?"

"A little mama's boy," Butch said, not bothering to hide his intense dislike. "Look at him. He'd probably faint in a real fight faster than Freddie Gomez."

"How do you know?" Alex asked, a little surprised by his sudden malice. "Just because someone a good relationship with their parents doesn't make them a pushover. I took you on, didn't I?"

"Yeah – well... I still don't like him."

"Right," Alex said, returning to the drawing. "You've said as much."

Butch didn't say anything after that, and brooded the entire time Alex worked. When she was finished, she hopped cheerfully down from her seat and went back out to the parlor, only to brought up short by the sight of Tom sitting on the raised bench with the top of his jumpsuit around his waist. She didn't understand why she was stopped short; in her line of work, she saw more skin than most people in the vault, but she couldn't help noticing the difference between Freddie's scrawny torso and Tom's lean build. He wasn't a muscled as Butch, but each surface of his chest was well-defined, and she was hard-pressed not to blush and shy away from him. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to approach him with a business-like air.

"I'm finished," she said unnecessarily. "If you'll just turn your back to me and roll your shoulders forward..."

He did as she asked, and as she cleaned his skin with an antiseptic, she couldn't help but notice his back was every bit as pleasing to look at as his front...

Admonishing herself for her unprofessional thoughts, she set herself to the task at hand, admiring the way he neither flinched nor whimpered as she took the laser-gun to his skin. Clearly, he wasn't nearly the wimp Butch seemed to think he was.

As she began work on the banner, she murmured the words as she burned them in. "'Nec temere nec temide'," she said. "What does it mean?"

"It's an ancient family motto that's probably been the mantra of every Holden since time immemorial," Tom explained in his smooth voice. "It says, 'Neither rashly nor timidly'."

"How very level-headed," Alex said with a smile, and when she glanced up, she saw Tom watching her in the mirror on Butch's side of the parlor. Overcome by a sudden shyness, she found herself quickly looking down again. "Were... were your ancestors politicians, perchance?" she stuttered, trying for polite conversation.

"Many were, yes. Some were congressmen and the like," he said. "Other's were pioneers and actors... if you believe my father, his great-some-odd grandfather was a world-famous architect."

"You don't believe him?" Alex asked.

"Father has always exaggerated when it comes to the family history. He also claims that one of our family was in congress when the decision to drop the bombs was made."

Alex winced at the thought. "I see."

"Oh, don't believe that though," Tom said quickly, catching sight of Alex's reaction in the mirror. "I've done the research, and no Holden's were currently in office when that nasty bit of business occurred." When Alex remained silent, Tom tried again. "So what about you? Any special family motto or anything?"

"Well, my dad told me it once, years ago..." Alex said, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember. "I think it went something like... 'Si fractus fortis'. Yeah, that's it. He said it means 'If broken, still strong'."

"Very fitting," Tom said, and Alex looked up at him in the mirror, surprised written on her face. "I just meant that... you know... your family lost someone important, yet held together and remained strong."

"How do you..." She was about to ask how did he know, but then remembered that in this tight-knit community, everyone knew each other's business. "I mean, I'm surprised anyone noticed." She was surprised _he_ had noticed. So far she knew, their families didn't have much contact with one another. He came from a long line advisers that at the very least kept up the appearance of democracy within the vault, despite the fact that everyone knew the Overseer's word was law. Still, in judiciary matters at the least, the Overseer was expected to hold a tribunal with at least two handpicked advisers on either side of him, with whom he was to hold council before coming to a final decision. From what she'd heard in the various rumors that spread around the vault, Tom had followed in his forefather's footsteps and joined the ranks as a Junior Advisor, and would one day take his father's place. Considering that her family neither dabbled in vault politics nor made it their business to run afoul of the law, they'd had little to do with one another.

"I guess I noticed," Tom said simply, and again, Alex found herself blushing shyly.

The next hour passed in relative silence, until Tom stood in front of the mirror at her station, admiring the crest that now covered a portion of his backside between his shoulder-blades.

"I have to admit, you're very talented," he said approvingly, looking at Alex over his shoulder.

"Thank you," she mumbled, trying not to appear too self-conscious. "But really, all I did was copy the design you gave me."

"It's more than that. It was quite the scandal when you were assigned this job... yet you do it so well."

"Um... thanks, I think," Alex said, looking down again, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment now.

Tom watched her for a moment, then came to stand in front of her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. Forgive my tactlessness."

Alex looked up again. "It's all right. You were trying to compliment me, I know."

"But I did it poorly," Tom insisted. "I have an tendency to say what's on my mind. My father frequently reminds me how unfortunate that is."

"It was the truth," Alex said with a shrug. "And really, I don't mind. You're absolutely right. I got dealt a bad hand, and I'm doing my best. There's nothing wrong with that."

Tom smiled at her again, with the barest hint of admiration in his gaze, and after one last look at his back in the mirror, he righted his jumpsuit and pulled the zipper up to his throat.

"Here, you'll want to take this," Alex said, handing him a small bag. "It's got everything you'll need to care for it over the next month, and instructions, and if you have any questions, come and see me, all right?"

Tom nodded. "That I will, Alex Foster."

He gave her one last smile as he left the parlor, and Alex stood staring after him until she heard a gruff cough from the workshop.

"Is mama's boy gone?" Butch asked.

Alex glared at him. "He's really nice, you know. Polite, too."

Butch glared back at her, then shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. I just wanted to know if he was gone before I came out. The last thing I want to do is sit out here and watch him making big eyes at you while you two babble on about your family histories."

Alex flushed. "I was not babbling, I was making conversation. And he was not making 'big eyes' at me."

"Puh-leeaaasseeee," Butch scoffed. "A blind man could've seen it."

"You're imagining things," Alex said indignantly.

"Maybe, but I wasn't imagining that," Butch insisted. "If he doesn't try to speak to you again within the next twenty-four hours, then I'll hand over leadership of the Tunnel Snakes to Wally."

Alex stared at him incredulously, then laughed at the very image. "All right, fine. If you're so sure of yourself, I'll happily take you up on that bet."

Butch looked surprised, but immediately capitalized on her suggestion, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he watched her. Alex slowly began to feel a sense of unease, but before she could recant her words, Butch said, "Okay, you've got a deal, but if he _does_ show, you have to wear whatever I want when we're downstairs for a whole month. No questions asked."

"What?" Alex sputtered. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Butch shrugged. "Nothing I guess, if we all hadn't been wearing the same thing every day for our entire lives. I can't help it, I'm curious. And if I'm going to risk handing leadership over to Wally, I at least want to wager a month of getting to see you in some of those little dressed stashed away down there."

Alex looked at him skeptically. "Just the dresses?"

Butch shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see what I find. I've never really looked, but there's sure to be something in there I'll like."

Alex continued to watch him suspiciously, until finally Butch said, "Well, if you're too _chicken_, I'll understand if you want to back out..."

"Nooooo, no," Alex said. "Since we both know who's going to win this one, you're on."

Despite her bravado, Alex felt rather nervous when she spotted Butch evening her throughout the rest of the day, as though imagining her in said "little dresses", and she found herself sincerely hoping she hadn't misjudged her bet with the Tunnel Snake.

* * *

"Good evening, dearie. You're looking very pretty tonight."

Alex did her best to smile at her grandmother as they sat beside each other in the little booth their family shared. Lucy Mae was usually the last person to comment on her appearance. In her eyes, her granddaughter was always perfect, which made Alex wonder just how horrid she must have looked for the past few weeks.

"Thanks, Grandma, but all I did was have my hair done," she said, tucking her hair self-consciously behind her ears.

"By that DeLoria boy, isn't that right?"

Alex stared at her grandmother. "How did you know?"

"Oh, it's been all around the vault for months now," she said pleasantly. "Dear Agnes practically raves about his work every time we have tea together. I was thinking I might go to him myself. Give this old mop of mine a little pick-me-up."

"You look just fine, mama," James said. "You don't need any of that fancy stuff. After all, Alex gets her natural beauty from you, remember?"

"And from our dear Catherine," Lucy said, gazing adoringly at her granddaughter.

Alex felt her face turn pink. "Okay, you two, I'm sitting right here," she said in mild exasperation. "You can quit talking like I'm not."

"Sorry, sweetheart," James said, smiling with a twinkle in his eye. "So, what brought about the sudden need to get a... what do you girls call it... a make-over?"

"It's _not_ a make-over," Alex said irritably. "I just had my hair done. Frankly, it was looking a little worse for wear and I thought a little pampering wouldn't hurt."

"Oh, so no special reason in particular?" James asked innocently, but his eyes, a honey-green that matched his daughter's perfectly, were twinkling in a way that made Alex suspicious.

"None whatsoever," she said with finality. Then, after a lengthy pause, she asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," James said. "It's just that I couldn't help but notice that nice young man that greeted you almost as soon as we got here."

Alex winced as the memory was brought to the forefront of her mind. It had hardly been a greeting, per se. She had located Tom as soon as she'd entered the diner, sitting at a table with his family and looking utterly bored. The moment he had seen her, standing in line with her father to get their food, he had smiled slightly and lifted a few fingers off the table in front of him and waved them briefly in her direction, and she'd responded with as much discretion. She was hoping no one had noticed that, but all things considered, she was just relieved that he hadn't actually gotten up to speak to her. Yet.

"He's just a customer I had earlier," she said with perfected nonchalance. "He wanted his family crest tattooed onto his back, so I did my best. He just really liked my work."

"As he should," James said proudly. "I've heard nothing but good things around the vault."

"Then why haven't you been in to get one?" Alex asked, feigning innocence as she turned the tables on her father. Alex grinned inwardly as James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and for a brief moment, entertained herself with the image of her father, clenching his delicate doctor's hands and trying to act brave, as she plied a hot laser over his smooth skin. Alex couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry about it Dad, I completely understand. I never expected you to get a tattoo."

James smiled, more with relief than anything else. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm sure you do an excellent job, but I –"

"I said it's okay," Alex insisted. Then, in the same breath, she turned to her cousin. "What about you, Jonas?"

Her cousin dropped his fork on its way to his mouth, and this time it was her grandmother who laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up there, dearie," Lucy Mae said. "Jonas is too much like my sweet Joe. A brilliant mind, but very old-fashioned."

"Who are you calling old-fashioned?" Jonas asked indignantly, sitting up straighter and looking for all the world like an austere old man. "Just because I don't relish the idea of burning graven images into my skin doesn't make me old-fashioned."

At these words, each of his family burst into quiet laughter, and even Jonas couldn't help but smile at his own words.

"All right, maybe you have a point," he said, sounding resigned. "Sorry, sport, you're just going to have to make due with someone younger and more... um... _hip_."

Alex grimaced. "Jonas, when are you going to stop calling me _sport_? I'm not ten years old anymore."

"Sorry," he said. "How does 'madam' sound? Is that old enough for you?"

Rolling her eyes, Alex made a face at him.

"Maybe your cousin will stop referring to you by childhood nicknames when you stop acting like you're still ten," James said, grinning at their antics in spite of his strict tone.

"Sorry, Dad," Alex said quickly, then focused on her dinner again.

The rest of the meal passed amicably enough, and when Alex left first to retire to her room and make plans for the mobile light source she would need to investigate the rest of the vault, her grandmother kissed her cheek and her father informed her he would be working late into the night again.

Absorbed in her own thoughts and plans, she was surprised when, halfway home, she felt something bump into her so hard she almost fell to the floor.

"Oh, sorry about that –" she started to say, but when she glanced up to see the person she'd hit, she was surprised to see Wally Mack, alone, and sneering down at her from his great height. "Oh, it's you," she said, filling those three words with everyone ounce of contempt she could muster.

"Try not to sound so happy about it," he said mockingly. "You'll embarrass yourself."

Alex scoffed. "In your dreams, blockhead."

Wally let out a bark of a laugh. "You better watch yourself, girlie. One day soon you'll find out I'm too _big_ for you to handle."

Alex took a step back from him, frowning over the peculiar comment, but holding her veneer of confidence. "Too big, maybe, but too brainless to take me on."

Wally laughed again, then, after giving her a long, thorough look that was more humiliating than anything else, he continued on his way, leaving Alex behind, feeling both confused and worried about what the thuggish Tunnel Snake had going through his tiny, sadistic mind.

* * *

Alex entered the parlor smiling the next morning, something Butch did not miss. Neither of course did he miss the small fact that her hair looked sleek and well-groomed, keeping up the hour of work he had put into it the previous day.

"Did something happen, or are you just happy to see me?" he asked, his voice displaying his full arrogance as he leaned against the wall to watch her settle in for the day.

"Hmm?" she asked, looking up at him. "Oh, hi Butch," she said pleasantly.

Butch rolled his eyes. "You sure know how to make a man feel noticed."

Alex smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I was just distracted."

"Anything happen last night?" he asked mischievously. "If a certain pretty-boy came by to speak with you, I'd definitely understand."

Alex scoffed. "No, nothing of the sort. It's just like I told you, he's not interested in me like you seem to think he is. And by one o'clock this afternoon, Wally will be the new leader of the Tunnel Snakes," she added smugly.

"I wouldn't be so certain of it yet," Butch said confidently.

"Oh, I'm certain," Alex said. "Anyway, passing over my nonexistent male admirer, I think I've come up for a decent design for a portable light source."

"You're still onto that, huh?" Butch asked.

"Of course," she said. "I'm not giving it up until I figure out what happened. Besides, it's not like I'm asking for help."

Butch grinned. "Oh, I think you will before the end. Little thing like you couldn't even open the door. You'll find a reason."

Making a face at him, Alex pulled a small diagram out of her notes with a little flourish and handed it to him. "The basics are simple. I'll need a kind of table on wheels with an undercarriage. The lights themselves will be bolted to the table facing out in all directions, and the batteries used to power them will be stored below."

"Simple enough," Butch said. "Now, the question is, where are you going to get this table?"

Alex shrugged. "I'll find one somewhere. Maybe in the storage room down on the reactor level. Or maybe we'll – _I_'_ll_ make one." Butch grinned wickedly as she caught herself. "Then it'll be a simple matter of pushing it around from one room to the next as we explore."

"We again?" Butch asked. "Already?"

"Well, if you prefer to drink alone in that little hidey-hole of yours, you're welcome to do that too," Alex said primly. "I just thought you might like to join me. You don't have to help with the actual research that I'll be doing. You can just... look around. See if you can scavenge anything that strikes your fancy."

Butch shrugged. "If nothing else, it'll be a laugh to watch you struggle with the first door you can't pry open, or something heavy that needs moving."

"Har har har," Alex said mockingly. "Yes, just a barrel of laughs." Shaking her head in disgust, Alex took the diagram back from him and tucked it in with her notes. "If that's how it is, maybe I'll just hang around to see Wally's face when you tell him he's the new leader."

Butch's smile fell of his face at that comment, and though Alex smiled at her small victory, Butch was struck by a sudden, horrible thought. If Tom really didn't show... and he was forced to hold up his end of the bet and make Wally the leader... aside from the sheer humiliation it would cause him, every effort he'd made so far to keep Alex out of Wally's hands would be for nothing. Wally would undoubtedly make her his next target. More than once already, his 'brother' had expressed his impatience for Butch to get his plan over with so he could have a try at her. In the end, he, Butch, would either have to stand by and let his friend do as he pleased, or he would have to go up against Wally in the only way a Tunnel Snake would understand.

_Not that I wouldn_'_t be able to take him_, Butch thought quickly, reassuring himself. The problem was the gang would be torn apart. He'd always been a Tunnel Snake at heart, had been their leader most of his life already. The Butch-man without the Tunnel Snakes was just... Butch.

Fifteen minutes after noon, Butch was growing quite nervous indeed, something Alex seemed smugly aware of. He did his best to act cool and confident, but he was sure Tom would've shown by now. He had to get out of this room. Had to clear his head and think of something he could do in the short time he had left.

"I'm gonna go get some grub," he announced casually. "You want anything?"

Alex smiled sweetly at him. "Sure, grab whatever looks good on your way back. But don't hurry. Considering it's your last meal, take your time."

Trying to look calm and collected, Butch left the parlor and stormed down the hall, but as he reached the end, he saw something that made him smile.

Tom was at the end of the hallway, starting down his direction without noticing Butch, but then, without making it five steps, a look of indecision crossed his pretty-boy face and he turned back around to walk away. A few steps later, he stopped again, looked back down the hallway, and that's when he saw Butch standing there, watching him.

"Oh, hello... Butch, isn't it?" he said.

Butch grinned. "Yeah, that's it. What're doing down here? Something wrong with your tat? Or you wanted to stop by to give that pretty hair of yours a much needed overhaul."

Tom looked coolly at him, but let the insult slide. "If you must know, I – Oh, never mind, it's nothing. I'll just be going."

"Hey, don't be like that, I was just messing," Butch said pleasantly. And after all, why shouldn't he be pleasant? He knew exactly why Tom was here. But clearly, the little wuss hadn't worked up the nerve yet. "I think I know why you're here."

"You – you do?" Tom asked, looking a trifle embarrassed now.

"Of course I do," Butch said confidently. "And for what's it worth, I think you should just go for it. Truth is, I think she's been waiting for you."

"She – she has?" Tom asked, clearly relieved as well as surprised.

"Well, she didn't say so, but she didn't really need to," Butch said with a cocksure smile. "The Butch-man knows these kind of things."

Tom looked skeptical, but Butch could see a hint of hope in him, and pressed his case. "What's the worst that can happen?" he asked. "She'll ask you to leave? Maybe," he went on, answering his own question, "but I doubt it. And even if she does, for a girl like her, it's worth trying. A guy like me would just go for it, y'know?"

Tom glanced at him suspiciously. "Then why haven't you?"

Butch shrugged. "She's a Daddy's Girl. Too good for my tastes. The two of you should fit together perfectly. Perfect, boring, law abiding. How could it not work?"

Tom scowled at him, but seemed to take Butch's odd words of encouragement to heart. "You're right. Like you said, what's the worst that can happen. Well, here goes nothing. And... thanks for... well, you know."

Butch watched him go with a smile of pure smugness, then, once he'd disappeared into the parlor, he headed off to the diner to relish the sweet taste of victory.


End file.
